


Dead Reckoning

by Sheila_Snow



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Angst, Issues of Consent (not Tiago/James), M/M, Magical Realism, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:50:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6108533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheila_Snow/pseuds/Sheila_Snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tiago Rodriguez is MI6's most successful field agent, but then, he has a gift that gives him an edge.  At least, he <i>thought</i> it did.  Unfortunately, Fate has Her own agenda, and She has a truly appalling sense of humour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CariZee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CariZee/gifts).



> CariZee: Hopefully, this isn't too much of an A/U for you, because I'm afraid my Muse went a little nuts. Okay, a _lot_ nuts. If it is, I'll write you another one, I promise. Seriously.
> 
> Not beta read, because I couldn't find anyone brave enough to volunteer.
> 
> NOTE: I've made some minor changes to the Skyfall timeline and the character ages. For the purposes of this fic, James is five years younger than Tiago, and this story is set only _six_ years after the turnover of Hong Kong to the Chinese. You'll see why when you get there. I love my Bond!Whumpage, but I do have some limits. ; )

Tiago Rodriguez liked his Walther PPK, he really did. It was solid, reliable and exceptionally well suited for its primary use as a concealed weapon. Unfortunately, in a running firefight against an opponent armed with a 100-round C-Mag, it sucked.

It _really_ sucked.

He tossed the now useless gun aside, jumped into the cab of the backhoe and swung it around desperately, hoping to block the incoming automatic weapon fire by using the backhoe’s bucket as a shield.

He wasn’t quite fast enough, and he grunted as one of the many ricocheting rounds hit him high in his right shoulder.

 _Damn. First blood to the opposition. Never a good sign._ He grinned tightly. _Good thing I’m not the superstitious sort._

“Rodriguez! He’s uncoupling the cars!”

Tiago didn’t bother acknowledging the other agent’s warning. He drove the backhoe up and over the remaining VW’s, raising the boom of the backhoe as high as it would go. He then drove it down hard into the passenger carriage ahead of him. Perhaps he applied a little more force than absolutely necessary, but the gunshot was impeding his fine motor control more than he had anticipated.

However, when he felt the flatcar he was riding on lurch forward abruptly, he knew he’d accomplished his objective. Now, if the damn thing only _stayed_ attached. Just like everything else in the world, they didn’t seem to make train carriages like they used to.

He climbed out of the cab and was almost across the boom onto the carriage ahead of him when the entire rear of the forward carriage tore away with a hideous screech. The boom lurched downward as its grip on the train was released, and Tiago was thrown from his precarious position. He grasped frantically onto the hydraulic cylinder with his good arm as he fell and then dangled there for a few moments, cursing, as he watched the remainder of the train pull further ahead.

Nothing to be done about it now. It was in the hands of that young, untried agent they’d saddled him with, assuming she could even get into position to take a shot at the target in the first place. Taking a deep breath, he reached with his other arm and hauled himself back onto the boom, then merely lay there for a few moments until the fire in his shoulder subsided somewhat. 

Tiago had been shot before, of course. You didn’t get to double-oh status without collecting your fair share of bumps, bruises, and bullet holes along the way, but this particular one hurt like blazes.

He made his way carefully back down the boom of the backhoe onto the flatcar, the journey made significantly easier this time as the disconnected portion of the train gradually slowed and the rolling, lurching motion of the car correspondingly diminished. 

Tiago remained silent as the female agent reported to HQ, not wanting to jog her proverbial elbow. From what little he had Seen of her, she was undeniably steady, tenacious and eager, but this was her first field posting, and she lacked the experience to go along with the positive traits. He certainly _hoped_ she could manage it, because Tiago Rodriguez wasn’t accustomed to failure.

And he certainly wasn’t so proud that he’d begrudge a colleague the kill on a target _this_ important.

“I may have a shot,” he heard her say over the earpiece, and Tiago held his breath. “It’ll be long though, nearly out of range.”

“Can you get into a better position?” Tiago heard M respond.

“Negative. There’s no time. The train is about to enter a tunnel.”

“What are you waiting for then? Take the bloody shot, if that’s all you have.” 

My, but Mummy does tend to get short-tempered when stressed. Too bad she was more likely to rattle the young agent than encourage her.

He heard the sound of a shot, quickly followed by, “Damn! He saw me and dropped just as I fired.” A pause, and the sound of a receding train whistle as it evidently entered the tunnel. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, I failed.”

Tiago sighed. _Well, that makes two of us then._

Mummy will most definitely not be pleased.

************************************

“I expected better of you, Rodriguez.”

Tiago winced as he swung his legs around and sat on the side of the bed. “I love you too, Mummy.”

M straightened to her full height, which unfortunately for her wasn’t all that far, and said tightly, “This is no time to be facetious, 001. We _must_ retrieve that stolen hard drive, and retrieve it quickly.”

Turning his head to ostensibly stretch his neck, Tiago rolled his eyes, knowing she couldn’t see it. Since he currently enjoyed favoured agent status, he tended to bait her on a rather regular basis, but he knew he was skating on thin ice with her now. He may assume a devil-may-care attitude on the outside, but he was well aware of the seriousness of this particular situation. 

Sighing dramatically, he turned back to her and said, “The trail had gone cold in Turkey, M, and I didn’t think my bleeding to death would help the retrieval process at all.” He raised an ironic eyebrow at her. “Besides, I accidentally set off a scintillation counter at the airport, and I thought that might be just a teensy bit significant.” Noting the blank look on M’s face, he added, “It’s a specialized type of Geiger counter, extremely sensitive.”

M’s eyebrows raised at that, but she paused briefly when Tanner walked into the room. “I sent you after a computer hard drive, Mr. Rodriguez," she said, "not anything that should be even remotely capable of emitting radiation, so exactly _why_ did you set off a Geiger counter?”

“I believe I can answer that,” Tanner said, holding up a tube of metal fragments. “Depleted uranium shell, military grade. Hard to get, extremely expensive, and only used by a select few.”

“Aha.” Tiago smiled, jumped off the bed, then thought better of the abrupt movement when his injured shoulder complained. Loudly. The surgery had not been particularly invasive, but he wasn’t quite as young as he used to be.

Tiago turned to Tanner. “I assume you have photos and dossiers to go with those ‘select few’?”

“If you’re up to it, 001,” Tanner said doubtfully.

“Pfft, good as new,” Tiago said airily as he ushered Tanner out the door with his good arm around his shoulders. “Besides, we mustn’t keep Mummy waiting. Things to do, places to visit, people to kill.”

He turned long enough to wink at M and then laughed aloud at her resulting scowl. He could See the glints of anger and frustration within her, but he got the impression that neither were directed at him personally, so she obviously wasn't nearly as annoyed with him as she pretended to be.

Of course, that had to be _their_ little secret. 

Tanner was looking at them oddly, but then he never could understand why M tolerated Tiago’s sometimes more than borderline disrespect.

He also knew that Tanner considered him just a tad unbalanced, so Tiago therefore took every opportunity to keep the man guessing. Especially since it was _Tanner_ who had initiated the ‘Guess the date Tiago finally gets the boot’ office pool.

_Bless his heart._

************************************

Shanghai was magnificent, as always, and Tiago took a moment to admire the impressive skyline after his late night swim on the rooftop pool. Other agents may have fretted over the week-long delay or the necessity of relying on a rival agency’s intel in the first place, but Tiago was a very patient man. 

A field agent’s life consisted of long stretches of abject boredom interspersed with brief interludes of heart-stopping pandemonium, and he was learning to tolerate the quiet spells a little more as he got older. At least, he wasn’t purposely stirring up chaos like he used to when he was younger. 

Well, not quite as often anyway.

As for now, life was relatively good. After the aggravating metal bits had been removed from his shoulder, he had recovered rather quickly from the gunshot, especially given the relatively short interval between injury and removal of the fragments. Even without knowing they were DU shell fragments, he wasn’t foolish enough to leave anything liable to contribute to infection inside his body any longer than necessary. Besides, he hadn’t lied to M. The trail _had_ been stone cold dead in Turkey.

Unlike his target.

Ah, well. He would be able to remedy that little oversight shortly, after he had obtained the necessary information on the whereabouts of the missing drive, that is. 

It was always nice to have something to look forward to after a hard day’s work.

Therefore, feeling well rested and almost content, he manfully resisted the urge to whistle as he waited at the airport for the plane carrying the mercenary Patrice.

However, there was cockiness, and then there was stupidity. Since Tiago did not consider himself to be a stupid man, he instead waited quietly and unobtrusively for the plane’s arrival. M habitually chastised him for his ‘unfortunate penchant toward flamboyance’, but he could be discrete and conform with the dreary masses when he wanted to.

He just didn’t want to very often.

Tiago would never forget his adversary’s face, of course, but as the passengers entered the concourse, he found he didn’t actually _need_ that information. No, indeed. The dichotomy between the placid, bored businessman facade and the bitter, remorseless core of the man that Tiago Saw would have marked his objective just as easily. 

Tiago’s gift was not always so useful, but being able to recognize the wolf in sheep’s clothing had saved his life more than once. He didn’t need to read a man’s mind to recognize a killer, not when their soul glinted like a fathomless black diamond to anyone with the Sight to detect it.

He smiled to himself. Besides, Tiago was abrasive enough that it might permanently damage his ego if he could hear what others actually _thought_ about him.

Then again, perhaps not. He did have a rather _strong_ ego, after all.

However, much later, after Patrice had fallen through the skyscraper’s window during their fight and Tiago hadn’t been quick enough to grab him, he was forced to reconsider both his self-confidence and possibly his faith in the infamous Tiago luck.

In fact, if he hadn’t found the Macau gambling token in Patrice’s suitcase, he might have wondered if it wasn’t time to retire from the Game altogether after failing two missions in a row.

Tiago shuddered. Retirement. Now _that_ was a positively scary thought.

************************************

Strolling causally through the crowded casino in Macau, Tiago wondered if the gambling token wasn’t a dead end after all. 

His Sight was telling him there was no one of interest here, at least not to him. Oh, there were those whose souls glimmered dully with the telltale sparks of dishonesty –- the would-be cheaters at cards, the petty thieves and the like -- but no one who pinged his awareness of significant danger. 

After a few more minutes of fruitless Searching, Tiago started toward the cashier's counter, deciding he might as well discover how much Patrice’s token was worth. 

Then he spotted him.

At first, the man had caught Tiago’s interest on a purely physical level, simply because he was so exquisite. Short blonde hair, not overly tall, but wearing a perfectly tailored suit that emphasized his lean build and broad shoulders. Glancing lower, Tiago eyebrows raised approvingly. He appreciated a particularly well sculpted arse, regardless of gender. 

However, when Tiago almost idly attempted to employ his Sight on the luscious man, he stopped dead in his tracks. Unaccountably, his gift was showing him absolutely _nada_. It was as if the man didn’t exist at all –- as if he were a blank wall, a total enigma.

To say Tiago was intrigued was an understatement. This was a first for him. There had never been an instance when he couldn’t get _some_ reading of a person’s innermost character through his gift. 

Tiago could tell the enigma was attempting to move casually amongst the tables, but since he did not so much stride as _stalk,_ he was failing rather miserably at it. He reminded Tiago of a caged panther, attempting unsuccessfully to dissipate his anger and frustration through ceaseless, aimless motion. 

He watched unobtrusively as the enigma was eventually approached by another man. His Sight seemed to be working just fine with this one. He Saw a successful businessman, but one who evidently combined borderline shady business practices with a generous measure of innate cruelty. He apparently didn’t limit this sadism to just his business practices either.

Tiago’s hackles rose, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint why. The man was dishonest without being completely corrupt, and it was painfully obvious he could have no connection with a high powered professional mercenary like Patrice.

But for some undefinable reason, Tiago’s eyes narrowed dangerously when the man stepped in much closer to the enigma’s personal space than he should.

After a brief discussion, the businessman ran his hand down the enigma’s arm then grasped his elbow in a clearly proprietary manner. 

The enigma stiffened, and everything in his bearing and demeanor screamed ‘dangerous’ to Tiago, but this was based solely on Tiago’s experience in recognizing a fellow predator. His gift was still remaining adamantly silent with this one.

The enigma freed his elbow from the other man’s grip, with an admirable degree of restraint, Tiago thought. After another short discussion, the businessman’s eyes widened at something the enigma said. The businessman seemed to ponder this for awhile, then shook his head almost regretfully and wandered off, but not without one last lascivious backward glance.

Tiago cursed his suddenly absent gift, because that ‘almost transaction’ couldn’t have been what it looked like. Not unless Tiago’s instincts about the enigma’s innate dangerousness were totally off base.

As he stared intently at this exceedingly mystifying man, he finally shook his head and smiled. Well, there was one way to find out for sure, wasn’t there?

He approached the enigma silently from behind, then said nonchalantly, “I assume you are available for the evening after all?”

The man turned around slowly, apparently neither surprised nor affronted by Tiago’s insinuation, and this merely confirmed Tiago’s initial impression of his occupation, as unlikely as it would seem.

However, when the enigma completed his turn and looked up into Tiago’s face, his eyes widened slightly and he took what was clearly an involuntary step backward. He recovered _very_ quickly, but Tiago knew a healthy dose of shock, and possibly even fear, when he saw it. He didn’t need his capricious gift to identify that much.

But still, it was very odd. Tiago had been careful to appear as harmless as possible, and since he was a _very_ good actor, it couldn’t have been Tiago’s demeanour that had caused this reaction. He could have sworn he’d never seen this man before in his life, but apparently the same wasn’t true for the enigma.

Or perhaps, despite his _apparent_ profession, he was a player in the Great Game after all and knew Tiago by reputation. It would certainly explain Tiago’s impression that this was a man to be reckoned with. 

In either case, a mystery. And how Tiago adored a mystery! Especially one so emphatically gorgeous as this one.

“I’m sorry,” Tiago said pleasantly, “have we met before?”

The man straightened ever so slightly, unconsciously attempting to lessen the difference in their respective heights, then said with certainty, “No, we haven’t.”

Surprised yet again at the unquestionably British accent, Tiago replied with a sad smile, “My loss, obviously.” He took a half-step closer and saw the man visibly tense, but he didn’t back down . . . or away. Tiago pressed a little harder. “It merely appeared as if you’d recognized me from somewhere. Are you quite certain we haven’t met before?”

“Yes,” he replied quickly. 

_Perhaps too quickly?_

The enigma raised his chin defiantly. “You have a common face, that’s all.”

Tiago winced dramatically. “Ouch. And here I thought I was both unique and memorable. You wound me to the quick, sir.” He then smiled broadly, infusing all his considerable charm into it. “Perhaps we should start again? It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Rodriguez. Tiago Rodriguez.” He didn’t offer his hand, because he was quite certain the man would ignore it.

The enigma was still eyeing Tiago warily, but he answered reluctantly, “James.”

Tiago raised an eyebrow. “James . . . ?”

“Just ‘James,’” he said with some degree of irritation, and Tiago smiled again, positively delighted. Regardless of receiving no confirmatory input from his gift, he _knew_ this man possessed the sort of unquenchable inner fire that Tiago hadn’t encountered in years.

If ever.

“Well, ‘James,’” he said with pursed lips and an ironically raised eyebrow, “you seem horribly bored. Are you interested in entertaining a real man this evening?”

“I’d love to. Do you know someone like that?” 

Tiago laughed, loud and long. “Oh, my,” he said, wiping his eyes. “You do have a sharp tongue, James, but I’m sure that’s simply part of your appeal.” He winked at him. “I do hate to sound so abysmally clichéd, but I _could_ make it worth your while, you know.”

James glanced over his shoulder at a stern-looking man standing behind the cashier’s counter. He smiled slightly. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to take your word for that, since I’m quite certain you can’t afford me.” 

“Oh, but I think I can.” He held up Patrice’s token. “How much is _this_ worth, I wonder?”

James’ eyes widened, then seemed to lose focus for a moment. After a short pause, he said, “I am correct in assuming that you killed Patrice?”

 _Ah, bueno._

So this hadn’t been a wasted trip, after all. There had been no innocent bystanders to witness Patrice’s death. Either James was close to the man who employed Patrice and somehow learned of his death that way, or he had an information source within MI6 or some other intelligence agency. Tiago was willing to bet on the former, but regardless of the eventual outcome on that score, he considered himself extremely fortunate to have met this exceptionally intriguing man.

“Bad news travels fast,” Tiago said casually, not bothering to answer James’ question.

“What makes you think it’s _bad_ news?”

Hmm. That inner fire again. He could almost bask in the heat emanating from those searing blue eyes. 

Tiago raised an inquiring eyebrow. “He wasn’t your lover then?”

James snorted. “He was a client, nothing more.” He shook his head angrily. “I’m glad he’s dead.”

Tiago had a feeling that was the first categorically honest statement the man had uttered so far tonight. He Searched James again, but still found nothing but a blank wall to his Sight. However, the bruises around the man’s neck, not quite covered by the crisp collar of his dress shirt, didn’t require a paranormal ability to explain their source. “He hurt you,” he said decisively.

James rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t get maudlin on me. People _pay_ to hurt me.” He glared at Tiago. “It’s part of my appeal.”

He started to walk away, but Tiago grabbed his hand, twisting it so he could see the inside of James’ wrist. He eyed the tattoo with significant surprise. “So you _are_ the property of one of the houses and not merely freelance.”

James angrily freed his arm. “No one is allowed to ‘freelance’ in Macau, at least not for long. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Tiago watched him stalk away, positively unable to tear his eyes from the man, and realized he was in big, big trouble. 


	2. Chapter 2

When he cashed in Patrice’s token, even Tiago was somewhat taken aback by the significant number of euros he suddenly found in his possession. Four million, at least.

Not surprisingly, James’ handler readily agreed when Tiago arranged to purchase the entire evening with his charge. James hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d alluded that Tiago couldn’t afford him, because the price had indeed been exorbitant. Given the reaction of the businessman who had attempted to hire James earlier, however, this was apparently his usual rate. His house was therefore severely limiting the potential pool of James’ clients, and Tiago couldn’t help but wonder why.

However, James’ house apparently owned the casino as well, so they were therefore quite happy to acquiesce to Tiago’s request and regain some of their significant outlay in euros.

Tiago chatted pleasantly with the beautiful young woman who escorted him to his rendezvous with James. It never hurt to establish a rapport whenever one could, and she spoke fluent English, as did all the employees of the casino. When they arrived at their destination, she gave her name as Jingfei. Opening the door and bowing to him slightly, she informed him that James would arrive shortly, and that Sir could call if he required anything that the suite did not already contain.

“I may do so regardless, if I know that _you_ will be answering that call, my lovely Jingfei.”

“Sir is too kind,” she said, ducking her head shyly.

Ah, so she was not part of the trade herself. Interesting. He wondered if she was close to James, or if she merely happened to be on duty this particular night. Well, if things went as planned, he would have time and opportunity to discover this himself. He was eager to gather some sort of background on the mysterious James, and he had a feeling he would gain little from the man himself.

At least not until he could gain his trust.

 _If_ he could gain his trust. James had seemed exceptionally wary of him, for an as yet unknown reason.

While he waited, Tiago familiarized himself with the suite, noting the large, comfortable bed, albeit well equipped with a variety of relatively unobtrusive restraints. In a nearby cupboard were arranged the standard, ubiquitous instruments of punishment. Tiago eyed these with a mild degree of distaste. To each his own, he supposed, but he had never found it necessary to utilize pain or torture to dominate a partner. 

Given James’ reaction earlier this evening, he was willing to bet the man wasn’t exactly a masochist either.

He wasn’t able to detect any surveillance devices, but he wasn’t entirely surprised by that. Given the significant sum of money his clients paid for James’ service, they would hardly appreciate having a permanent record made of their undoubtedly outré sexual practices. 

Tiago had just finished a tumbler of truly exceptional scotch when the door to the suite finally opened.

James walked into the room but stopped abruptly when he spotted Tiago. He swayed slightly on his feet.

Tiago was at his side almost immediately, and he noted how James resolutely restrained himself from taking a step back. He also noted that the man’s eyes were widely dilated, and his face lacked the tenseness and control that he had displayed during their earlier meeting. It made him appear absurdly young and vulnerable.

Tiago’s insides twisted. “They’ve drugged you,” he said with assurance.

“Of course,” James replied, again swaying slightly. “They don’t appreciate it if I accidentally damage the clientele.” He paused, then continued bitterly, “That’s supposed to be _their_ job.”

“Hmm,” Tiago replied, considering how best to approach matters given this unexpected development. “What drug did they give you?”

James shrugged. “Not sure. Some sort of cocktail to make me more cooperative and less likely to object to the proceedings.” He shook his head slightly. “Feels a little stronger tonight than it usually does,” he said, almost to himself.

Tiago nodded. “I assume you are normally scheduled with a client for an hour, two at most?”

“Yes, of course,” James replied quizzically.

“I purchased your time for the remainder of the night, so they probably increased the dosage accordingly.”

James looked somewhat alarmed. “The entire night?” 

“Yes, James.” Tiago shook his head regretfully. “If I had known they planned to drug you, I would have requested that they refrain. I prefer consenting partners.”

“Of course you do.” James sounded resigned and doubtful, even through the haze of the drug.

Tiago sighed. “I really wish I knew _where_ you acquired your exceedingly bad opinion of me. I can assure you, it is undeserved.”

“The school of hard knocks,” James replied with more than a faint tinge of bitter irony in his voice.

Tiago narrowed his eyes. “I am quite serious about consent. If you do not wish me to touch you, I will not.”

James shook his head emphatically. “If you leave and demand your money back, they will . . .” He paused, as if debating how much to say. “They will not be pleased with me,” he said finally, and Tiago could swear he saw the slightest degree of pleading in the man’s eyes, which he was quite certain would _never_ manifest as words.

“James, I am not going anywhere.”

Visibly relaxing, James sighed in relief, then started to unbutton his jacket.

“No,” Tiago said quickly.

James looked at him in muted surprise but obeyed the command, dropping his arms back to his sides.

Tiago again regretted the loss of his Sight, because if he were wrong about James’ needs, he would never acquire the information that he needed. Oddly enough, however, the missing hard drive seemed to be surprisingly low on Tiago’s list of priorities at the moment. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d let his personal feelings interfere with a mission. It just didn’t happen.

_I really am in far too deep._

Tiago took a slow step forward, then another, giving James time to object to Tiago being in his personal space. Other than a slight increase in his respiration, however, James made no protest.

“I prefer to undress you myself,” Tiago explained. Again, making no sudden moves, Tiago slowly unbuttoned the bespoke suit jacket and pulled it down the man’s arms. He carefully draped the jacket over a convenient chair and then started with the man’s shirt buttons. He watched James’ face closely for any sign of undue distress given how uneasy he had appeared in Tiago’s presence earlier, but he merely stared straight ahead.

He had finished with the buttons and was beginning to remove the shirt itself when James replied, “You might want to lower the lights first.”

Tiago’s eyebrows raised. “Why ever for? I’ve personally never been one who enjoys fumbling around in the dark with a lover.”

James’ eyes flicked up to his briefly. “Suit yourself,” he said muzzily. “Some people find it less . . . off-putting to take me in darkness instead.” He averted his gaze again.

Tiago had a sinking feeling he knew what he’d find, but he didn’t hesitate at all. Gently pulling open the shirt, he shook his head slightly at what he uncovered but merely eased the shirt off the muscular shoulders and then down the man’s arms, taking his time and allowing his fingertips to trail lightly in the path of the retreating fabric.

“Are any of these still at the stage where they’re painful to touch?” Tiago asked with concern.

James looked at him in sheer surprise then. “Does it matter?”

Tiago took a step back and crossed his arms. He eyed the patchwork quilt of scars, old and new, that decorated vast swathes of the man’s upper torso, and said, “Of course, it matters.” He allowed his voice to deepen somewhat and said, “Now, answer my question please.”

James blinked a few times, but to Tiago’s utter satisfaction, he complied without further delay. “Patrice has been gone a couple of weeks. No one else has caused enough damage to scar since then.”

Not that he’d regretted it all that much before, but suddenly Tiago was rather glad he’d been the one to splatter Patrice all over that Shanghai pavement. In fact, he’d have probably ripped off a few appendages first, if he’d only known. 

He stepped close to James and began gently mapping the worst of the damage with his fingertips. 

James shivered slightly, but he didn’t protest, and Tiago’s actions didn’t appear to be causing him any pain. Then again, he didn’t know if his handlers had included a painkiller in the ‘cocktail’ he’d been given. Tiago scowled. Probably not, given the type of clientele James was expected to ‘entertain.’ Sadists wouldn’t want _anything_ to interfere with the pain they were getting off on inflicting.

“Some of these are years old,” he said idly, as he traced the most brutal, vicious scars and lastly one scar in the middle of his chest that appeared almost surgical in nature. Without looking up, he added casually, “How long have you belonged to this house?”

“I’ve always been here.”

Tiago’s fingers paused, and he cocked his head slightly, disbelieving. He tried again, “James, what were you before you became a sex slave?”

James shook his head, apparently agitated. “I told you. I’ve always been here.”

“None of these scars are more than five or six years old. Even now, your handlers feel it necessary to use drugs to make you pliable. That implies that your behaviour is _habitually_ intractable, and you should therefore carry much older scars if you’d been inducted into the trade as a child, as many are.” 

Tiago had apparently let his mask slip somewhat in his frustration and anger at James’ situation, since the man flinched slightly away from him.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m telling you the truth,” James said, a slight note of anxiety in his voice.

He looked at Tiago as if he expected to be punished for an inadequate answer, but Tiago somehow knew he wouldn’t accept that punishment without a fight. Even with the drugs they’d given him, the suppressed fire in his eyes indicated that specific fact quite emphatically. His handlers must be forced to use extreme measures to keep this volatile man in line. 

Tiago squashed his raging emotions at that particularly disquieting thought and said soothingly, “All right, James. I believe you.” And in actuality, he did. There were no secrets lurking in the depths of those fiery but apprehensive eyes. At least, none regarding his past that James was _knowingly_ keeping from him. 

It appeared as if Tiago’s enigma would have to remain so, at least for the time-being. Well, he had time. Not a lot of time, but he did have some.

Tiago wasn’t squeamish, and he certainly wasn’t a prude. He wanted this man, badly, but he would take no one without their consent, and drugged as James was, Tiago didn’t feel he was capable of granting it. Besides, even if some societies considered prostitution to be an honourable profession, he was quite certain _this_ man hadn’t entered the trade willingly.

Well, if he had to take James to bed to keep him from being punished, he would certainly do so, but what he did with James once he got him there was totally his business.

“Could you step out of your shoes please?” Tiago asked politely.

James seemed taken aback by this undemanding request, but he obediently toed off his shoes and then again waited quietly for Tiago to make the next move.

Tiago reached for the clasp to the man’s trousers and slowly undid it, pulling the zipper down just as slowly. Not yet removing the trousers, he couldn’t resist running his fingers along the bare skin underneath the band, simply enjoying the feel of the toned muscles. He wondered idly if it were his handlers or James himself who insisted on keeping his body so fit, but Tiago had to admit it made the already attractive man almost irresistible. 

Instead of simply allowing the trousers to drop to the floor, Tiago inched them down the man’s legs until he was crouching on the floor at James’ feet with the fabric pooled around his ankles. Pressing the back of first one muscled calf, then the other, he indicated to James to step out of the trousers, which he did without protest. He repeated the manoeuvre to remove the socks.

Getting up onto his knees, Tiago placed his hands on the band of James’ silk briefs and slid these down the man’s legs as well, taking his time and caressing the long, lean legs as he did so. There was far less damage to his lower body than his upper torso, Tiago was relieved to note.

Once James was completely naked, Tiago eyed the man longingly. He was absolutely perfect, just as he had imagined. Even unaroused, he had such a lovely cock that Tiago ached to explore it thoroughly with fingers and tongue. 

Sighing regretfully, Tiago stood.

James waited silently but with obvious resignation, no doubt assuming he knew what would come next. As the drugs had taken stronger hold of him, however, his expression had become so open and vulnerable that it only intensified Tiago’s already overactive protective streak.

Unfortunately, he knew he’d have to ignore his conscience and indulge himself, at least for a short time. He’d known this man for less than a day, yet Tiago already had nebulous plans that featured him very prominently indeed. Without the benefit of his gift, he needed to know if James could bring himself to obey him under at least a mild degree of stress. Some of Tiago’s projected scenarios would require instant compliance, and if he couldn’t defer to Tiago now, he wasn’t likely to do so when things began to get dicey.

Yes, he knew James was most likely the key to finding the missing hard drive, but that wasn’t the only reason he wanted to keep the man close. Hell, if he wanted to be honest with himself, it wasn’t even the primary reason.

Reaching up slowly, he grasped the back of James’ neck, and then Tiago slowly lowered his mouth to his. 

James started slightly. Apparently, most of his clientele didn’t bother with preliminaries, and therefore Tiago’s actions had been completely unexpected. James stubbornly refused to open for him, but then Tiago _had_ expected that. In fact, he was inwardly pleased that James had resisted him, at least at first. Tiago was experienced enough to know that anything worthwhile was _never_ easy.

Therefore, he didn’t chastise James for his refusal. Instead, he simply nuzzled the man, pressing tiny kisses on his face and chin, but never allowing him a respite from Tiago’s relentless presence. He interspersed these with gentle probes of his tongue to the man’s lips –- coaxing, cajoling, and teasing. 

While Tiago was in the process of discreetly requesting entrance to the man’s mouth, James swayed and nearly collapsed, the drugs finally taking their toll. Tiago’s free hand dropped to James’ bare arse, both supporting and constraining him.

James gasped at the contact, and his lips parted ever so slightly. Tiago entered momentarily, then retreated again, abandoning his brief conquest and instead resuming the gentle, soft kisses on his lips and face.

Evidently surprised that Tiago hadn’t taken complete advantage of his lapse, James made a soft, questioning sound that unfortunately went straight to Tiago’s cock. 

Moaning softly, Tiago lifted the man’s chin to nuzzle at his neck, running a thumb lightly over James’ lips to keep him accustomed to his presence there while he licked and nipped at the delicate skin of his neck, carefully avoiding the fading bruises.

He felt James stir against him, and Tiago once again held the man immobile by the back of his neck while he teased at his mouth with lips and tongue, alternately begging and demanding entrance.

With a murmur of suppressed need, James finally opened to Tiago, allowing him access at last. However, when James attempted to take control of the kiss, Tiago retreated again, releasing his mouth and again peppering his cheeks with delicate, barely present caresses of lips and tongue.

Shaking his head in apparent frustration, James actively sought out Tiago’s mouth himself, but Tiago used his greater height to evade him, continuing to lick, bite and nip at random locations while resuming his light stroking of the man’s lovely arse.

When he finally felt James slump against him in defeat, Tiago gripped his chin lightly, tilted his face up, and tentatively dipped into the man’s now receptive mouth, probing just inside his lips to see if he would accept the intrusion this time without challenging him.

James’ tongue brushed against his briefly, then retreated, as he silently relinquished control to Tiago. His body almost unconsciously followed suit as it melted completely against his.

Sighing appreciatively, Tiago proceeded to take the man apart now that he had been given free rein, molding his body more tightly to his as he licked and stroked and plundered with his mouth.

When Tiago finally raised his head and released James, he had to take a deep breath. _Madre de Dios_ , but if the man had been hard to resist before, it was almost impossible to do so now. 

James looked up at Tiago with kiss-swollen lips and wide, dilated eyes. Tiago didn’t need to feel his firming cock against him to know the man was significantly aroused –- his breathing had quickened, and his lips were parted wantonly as if still seeking Tiago’s intrusion. He murmured something unintelligible and reached for the buttons on Tiago’s shirt. 

With a regretful sigh, Tiago grasped the hand intending to disrobe him and brought it to his mouth for a soft kiss. “No, _mi tesoro_ , there is no need for that.”

James looked shocked. “But . . .”

Resolutely willing his own overeager erection to subside, Tiago shook his head and said, “I have not changed my mind, James.” 

_No, you’ve merely lost it, you idiot. Face it, you’re going to make a terrible martyr._

He rubbed the palm of James’ hand reassuringly. “I do intend to spend the night with you, but we are doing nothing more than sleeping.” He had to laugh at the look on James’ face. “Yes, I am quite serious. Now, get into bed and I will join you shortly.”

Perhaps it was the drugs or perhaps he deliberately _chose_ to obey Tiago, but James did as he was requested. After a brief trip to the loo, Tiago removed enough of his clothes to get comfortable, crawled underneath the blankets, and pulled the undeniably tense figure against his body.

It wasn’t surprising that James was strung tighter than a drum, but Tiago merely stroked his body in a determinably nonsexual manner until the man eventually drifted off to sleep, likely with significant assistance from the heavy dose of drugs he’d been given. 

Once James had finally relaxed bonelessly into sleep, Tiago pressed himself even closer and continued to decorously map the man’s upper body with his hands and lips. With a swift mental kick to his nagging conscience, he then gently latched onto James’ neck and thoroughly marked him as his. 

Circumstances may force him into martyrdom, but he sure as hell wasn’t a fucking saint.


	3. Chapter 3

Tiago had just stepped out of the shower in his hotel room when M rang.

“Yes, Mummy?” he said.

There was a brief silence. “Is it conceivable you might occasionally address me in a respectful manner, 001?”

“Oh, dear. I do apologize. Would you actually prefer if I call you ‘Mum’? I thought it was a tad too familiar, but if that’s what you want . . .”

“Rodriguez. I allow you _some_ latitude because of your unique . . . talents, but my patience is not endless. Happily, the supply of capable field agents eager to replace you _is_.”

“And here I thought you’d always loved me best. I may never recover fully from my despair.” He paused. “However, as we both know, you’d have difficulty finding someone to match _all_ my sterling qualities.”

“You might be surprised. In fact, I’m quite certain that one day, you shall. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Tiago laughed. “I consider myself warned and suitably chastised. Now, is there a reason for ringing me other than missing the sound of my voice?’

“You do recall the issue of the stolen hard drive, I assume?”

“Yes, Mum, I do.”

Clearly exasperated, M said, “Well, have you made any progress in locating the bloody thing?”

Tiago paused, the smile draining from his face as he considered how to handle this. He was only working on a hunch, without confirmation from his gift, but he was absolutely certain that James was the key to recovering the drive, regardless of his admittedly tenuous association with Patrice. 

However, for some inexplicable reason, he was reluctant to mention even the concept of James’ existence to others. He’d never been quite so proprietary over _anyone_ before, and it was more than a bit disconcerting. 

Unfortunately, if M didn’t believe he was making any progress, she’d threaten to demote him to Q branch again. She could be such an evil, heartless wench sometimes.

“Actually, M, I do have a lead. A quite promising one, as a matter of fact, so don’t schedule any interviews for prospective replacements yet.” _In for a penny, in for a pound._ “I’ve tracked down Patrice’s ex-lover.”

M sighed. “Of course you have. And I’m sure she’s quite stunning, and that you merely require a few hours to win her confidence with your myriad charms before she gratefully reveals all.”

“Hmm,” Tiago said. “While I appreciate your well deserved confidence in me, I’m afraid _he_ might be a little more resistant to my charms than most.”

A distinct pause. “Did you say, ‘he’?”

“Yes, Mum. Congratulations. You’ve just passed your annual hearing exam with flying colours.”

“But, you’ve never . . .” She cut herself off, then said, “Oh, bloody hell. I’m obviously getting too old for this job. Inform me immediately when you have something _definitive,_ 001\. We don’t have time for you to . . . dilly-dally.”

“Yes, Mum,” Tiago replied, but M had already rung off. 

He smiled. It did his soul good to know he could still surprise the old dragon after all these years. He despised being predictable. It went against his personal code of ethics.

************************************

Tiago mingled with the early-going casino crowd the next day. He found a nondescript corner behind one of the ornate dragon statues on the second level where he could observe without being easily observed himself, and Tiago settled in for some dedicated people watching.

Well, if he happened to be watching _one_ person in particular, it still counted as people watching in his book. 

Tiago was intrigued to note that regardless of the apparent difficulties James gave his handlers, the employees of the actual casino appeared to be inordinately fond of him. It didn’t take Tiago long to discern why. James was always attentive and exceptionally polite to the casino’s staff –- not just the ladies -– and they in turn greeted him with smiles of obviously genuine welcome.

Tiago discovered at least part of the reason for James’ popularity when a red-faced customer who had apparently already overindulged rudely grabbed the wrist of one of the female bartenders.

James was almost immediately looming over the seated man. He placed an obviously quite painful grip on the man’s shoulder, and the bartender’s wrist was promptly released. After a few terse words from James, an apology was also hurriedly delivered to the young woman, and the man quickly departed with his proverbial tail between his legs.

No fuss. No muss. No disturbance to the paying customers, and a potentially difficult altercation for the bartender was smoothly avoided without making a scene. 

Tiago doubted he could have handled the situation better himself.

The bartender smiled gratefully at her protector, bowing respectfully, and James nodded to her before returning down the stairs to his canvassing of the casino tables.

 _Dios_ , but Tiago loved dangerous efficiency wrapped up in such a breathtaking package. He might just possibly be in love.

Smiling in anticipation, Tiago went to arrange matters with James’ handler for the evening.

************************************

When James was ushered into the suite that evening, he was wearing a short dressing gown and apparently nothing else.

Well, that and a rather forbidding expression.

Hmm. At least this indicated the house had carried out his instructions, and James had not been drugged to the gills this time.

However, Tiago _really_ hoped he wouldn’t end up regretting that last bit. After all, there was probably a good reason they required him to sign a waiver first, absolving them of all responsibility for unspecified damages.

But then, according to MI6's psychologists, Tiago had ‘an addictive personality and an unhealthy tendency toward seeking out dangerous situations.’

So, obviously, James was _perfect_ for him.

Having previously lowered the lights to a more intimate level, Tiago stepped out of the resulting shadows and leisurely approached James.

Once more, the slight apprehensive widening of eyes when James recognized him. “You, again?” James said.

Tiago smiled broadly, still maintaining his slow, languid approach. “Yes, I’m afraid so.” He didn’t stop until he was well within James’ personal space. “If I were not so insanely infatuated with you, I wouldn’t be paying a fortune in euros each night to spend time with you.” 

James attempted to shrug casually, but Tiago was a little too close. “Who am I to argue with how you waste your money?”

Raising an eyebrow, Tiago said, “Since it’s actually Patrice’s money, does it matter?”

“Not in the least.”

Tiago reached for the belt of James’ dressing gown, untied it, then swept the fabric off his shoulders and onto the floor. He searched the man’s face carefully. “Just to make sure, you are definitely feeling more . . . clear headed tonight, James?”

James lifted his chin aggressively, still plainly distrusting Tiago, but his lips turned up slightly into the vague approximation of a smile. “Why don’t you try starting something and find out for yourself?” 

Tiago laughed, delighted, and his libido heartily approved of that reply. He knew that particular expression, even without the benefit of his gift. Sometimes it was merely the struggle, the battle for dominance, the sheer staining of muscles against another’s that succeeded in releasing one’s pent up frustrations and fears when all else had failed. 

It could be almost as good as the actual sex.

_Almost._

“You don’t think I can handle you?” Tiago said, tilting his head slightly.

“I doubt it, very strongly.”

_Oh, this is going to be good._

Without further warning, Tiago grabbed one of James’ wrists, twisting it and forcing the man to turn into the hold to avoid damage to his arm. He then wrapped his other arm around James’ neck and attempted to walk him toward the bed. 

James stomped on the arch of his foot, hard, which must have caused at least some damage to James’ own bare foot, then he drove his free elbow into Tiago’s stomach. With a surprised “oomph” at the force of James’ blow -- he was _definitely_ not pulling his punches -- Tiago released his hold on James and stepped back to regroup.

While Tiago took a moment to regain his breath, James spun around to face him and was openly smiling now in anticipation. He looked utterly magnificent in his defensive half-crouch, and Tiago nodded, well pleased. This was someone who had at least some prior experience in hand-to-hand fighting. He was more convinced than ever that this man had not spent his entire adult life in the sex trade.

Regardless, James was at least four or five years younger than Tiago, and he therefore could not match Tiago’s fifteen years of active experience in the field. He was undoubtedly competent, but he was also cocky, and that would be his downfall. He had apparently dealt only with those who were easily intimidated.

Tiago Rodriguez was _not_ easily intimidated.

Smiling broadly and throwing out his hand in a ‘what can I say?’ gesture, Tiago waited until James’ eyes involuntarily followed the motion before he launched himself bodily at the man. At the last moment, he dropped to the floor, rolling, and he therefore thwarted the hurried, inaccurately positioned counterattack to Tiago’s charge. 

Tiago grabbed the back of James’ knee as he finished his roll and pulled forward, tipping James off balance at the delicate knee joint. He then kicked James’ opposite ankle hard enough to throw him the rest of the way to the floor. 

James landed heavily on his side, but he allowed his momentum to carry him far enough away that he could get to his feet again before Tiago could attempt to immobilize him.

Reluctantly impressed, Tiago grinned wildly and attacked again before James could straighten completely, pivoting all his weight onto one hand while he threw his lower body upward into the air, kicking the man just hard enough in the solar plexus that he collapsed to his hands and knees on the floor, gasping for air.

Tiago didn’t give him time to recover. He threw himself bodily on top of James, pushing him face down, and then pulled both his arms around to his back so he could immobilize him properly. This left Tiago sitting firmly on a very delectable, very naked arse, which was _always_ a pleasant place to be.

James turned his head to look up at him sourly, still trying to catch his breath, but there was thankfully no fear or distress on his face. “ _What_ did you say you did for a living?”

The question was an attempted distraction, as Tiago had anticipated, so when James suddenly jack-knifed violently in a fruitless attempt to throw Tiago off him, he merely shifted to counteract the manoeuvre and then pulled James’ shoulder joints backward into a more painful position.

Tiago squeezed his legs together, compressing them firmly against the man’s hips to prevent any attempt at lateral movement. “Actually, I _didn’t_ say,” Tiago said. “But if you must know, I work for an export company.”

“Sure you do,” James said, clearly not believing a word of it.

“So very skeptical, you are,” Tiago said cheerfully. “All right, James, I’m going to release you now. You can either fight me again, fail, and wind up chained to the bed . . .” Tiago raised an eyebrow at the glower coming from his captive. “Hmm? Or you can concede, at which point we proceed to more pleasurable pursuits without me having to shackle you like a rabid dog. Your choice.”

Of course, Tiago had absolutely no intention of physically restraining James, and he was quite certain James knew this as well. It was all part of the dominance game, and he was willing to bet the younger man wouldn’t risk either one of them being permanently injured when he’d been beaten so soundly . . . and fairly. 

At least, not during this particular encounter.

He felt James’ answer before he uttered it, because the tensed body beneath him reluctantly relaxed.

“I concede,” James said, his voice resigned, but then he added almost as an afterthought, “For now.”

Tiago laughed, thoroughly approving of the man’s spirit and applauding his own correct assessment of it. “Excellent choice,” Tiago said, releasing his hold on James’ hands and allowing his arms to relax against his sides.

James winced, and Tiago obligingly massaged the strained shoulders, not making any effort to change his position yet. Why should he? The man had an exceedingly comfortable arse.

When he deemed that James had enough time to recover from their little scuffle, Tiago slid regretfully off him and got to his feet. He reached down to offer James his hand, and after some degree of hesitation, it was finally accepted. 

Tiago pulled him in close with the trapped hand, tilting his head up and kissing him gently on the mouth. When he probed delicately at the man’s lips, James tensed slightly, then capitulated with a small sigh, allowing Tiago access. 

Humming happily, Tiago continued his gentle assault of the man’s mouth while he gradually walked them both back toward the bed. When they reached it, Tiago pushed down gently on his shoulders.

James pushed at his chest slightly in response. “Aren’t you overdressed?” he asked quizzically.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Quite likely.” Tiago backed away far enough to start hurriedly removing his own clothes. “ _Lo siento, mi tesoro,_ but you are entirely too distracting.”

James watched him as he undressed, but then said, “Must you call me that? I’m no one’s ‘treasure.’”

Tiago raised an eyebrow at him. “You speak Spanish?”

Shrugging, James said, “Only a little. I’ve picked up fragments from a lot of languages.” He looked away. “It helps to avoid unnecessary punishment if you can comprehend the essential instructions the first time around.”

Tiago froze in the process of removing his trousers, crumpling the fabric with his fists in sudden anger. He couldn’t understand why he was so fiercely protective of a man he’d only met the day before, and one who was impenetrable to his gift, at that. It made no sense, but then Tiago often followed his instincts rather than supposedly tangible facts. Human beings were fluid and changeable. Even with his gift, he couldn’t map them out like an electronic circuit board and expect them to meekly follow a preset path.

Life would be incomparably dull if he could.

Removing his socks and pants, Tiago approached the man again and waited patiently until he lifted his gaze back to him.

James’ eyes widened as he looked at Tiago’s torso. “I had no idea the export business was quite this cutthroat,” he said, tracing a finger around the still reddened, puckered scar on Tiago’s shoulder.

“To be truly successful in _any_ sort of business, one has to be cutthroat, don’t you think?”

“I honestly wouldn’t know,” James said, then looked up into his face. “Patrice shot you, didn’t he?”

“Uh-huh.” Tiago smiled grimly, not seeing the need to deny it. “He was attempting to export something illegally. I was attempting to show him the error of his ways.”

James frowned in obvious painful remembrance. “Good luck with that.”

“There is a proverb -- _El que no se aventura no tiene suerte_ \-- ‘he who does not venture has no luck.’”

Eyeing the other, older scars that Tiago bore, James said, “You apparently do a great deal of ‘venturing’, or else you have inordinately bad luck.”

“We both bear our scars.” Tiago shrugged. “We have little choice but to contend with the hand Fate has dealt us.”

James didn’t reply, going rather ominously silent, so Tiago kissed him thoroughly again. This time, when he pressed gently downward on his shoulders, James sat willingly on the bed. Dropping to his knees, Tiago spread James’ thighs, caressing them lightly and methodically after James had complied, taking his time. 

He then tried futilely to ignore the almost shocked gasp this simple action elicited. 

Fuming silently to himself, Tiago was again forcibly reminded that James was clearly unaccustomed to foreplay, just as he hadn’t expected to be kissed. Well, Tiago certainly planned to remedy both those deficiencies tonight.

Planting a playful kiss on the tip of James’ cock as he lifted it out of his way, Tiago reached behind James, grabbed an arsecheek and pulled the man closer to the edge of the bed so that he had better access. He then continued the gentle caresses of his thighs as he licked and nuzzled at the man’s balls, patently ignoring James’ cock as it twitched and gradually lengthened.

Just to keep things interesting, he occasionally swiped his tongue ever so briefly on James’ penis, enjoying the increasingly frustrated groans as he concentrated his attention everywhere but where James wanted him to be.

When he thought he had tormented him enough, Tiago finally grasped the man’s lovely cock from its neglected position stretched against his abdomen and took him lightly in his mouth, using tongue and lips but still not giving him the suction or pressure he needed. 

“Christ, Rodriguez.”

Tiago pulled himself abruptly off James’ cock and waited, not very long, until James looked down at him in dismay. When he had James’ full attention, he said, “Tiago. My name is _Tiago_. I generally prefer to be on a first name basis with my lovers. Could I convince you to consider that as well?”

Those beautiful blue eyes were blown wide in arousal, and James said, “I’d call you the bloody Pope, if I thought it would help.”

Startled into laughter, Tiago said, “Well, you don’t have to go quite _that_ far, _mi tesoro_.” He allowed one hand to stray back to caress James’ arse, but he made no other move to fulfill the request.

“Damn it, _Tiago_. Will you kindly get on with it?”

“Hmm.” Tiago said, “Your delivery leaves a little to be desired, but still . . . much, much better.” Without further delay, he swallowed the man whole, letting his cock slide down his throat as he fondled his balls. 

Evidently caught by surprise, James thrust so hard that he nearly slid completely off the edge of the bed.

Rolling his eyes, Tiago released James again, ignoring his outraged protest as he stood up. He then grabbed the man by his hips and shoved him backwards, further up onto the bed. 

James flailed slightly, not expecting to be so effectively manhandled, but when Tiago followed him onto the bed, kneeling between his legs and pushing him down flat, James subsided without protest. In fact, he looked up at Tiago with an almost pleading expression on his face. 

Tiago willingly obliged him. Taking him into his mouth once again, he quite quickly brought the man to the edge and then eased off again, replacing the suction with quick licks to his tip and frenulum, and then resuming the suction until James was once again on the brink of orgasm. 

In absolutely no hurry to rush their first encounter, Tiago repeated this cycle again and again until James finally twisted beneath him in sheer desperation.

“Tiago, _please_ ,” James said.

Tiago pulled back, giving the man’s cock one last lingering lick. He smiled up at him. “Now, this time your delivery was _much_ improved. Practice makes perfect, no?” 

James merely threw his head back and groaned in frustration.

Tiago chuckled. Well, as much as they were both apparently enjoying this, Tiago _did_ have other items on the agenda for the evening.

He climbed from the bed, ignoring James’ shocked protest, but returned promptly with a tube of lube and a condom in his hand.

Paradoxically, James looked almost relieved when he saw what Tiago carried. It made him wonder just how rarely James had been allowed release during his encounters with his paying clients. James was close enough now that he probably assumed he could orgasm even if Tiago selfishly sought only his own release while taking him.

As Tiago knelt next to him, James started to turn over, but Tiago stopped him with a hand on his thigh. “No, James,” he said calmly.

James paused, then slowly nodded once, the surprise clear on his face. Apparently, very few chose to take him in this position, but then, that wasn’t exactly Tiago’s plan either.

At least not in the manner James had assumed.

He therefore was quite pleased to see the man’s abject shock when he applied the condom and lube to James’ cock instead of his own. This wasn’t Tiago’s preferred position, by any means, but he had no better way of reassuring James that his intentions were at least _reasonably_ honourable.

Stretching and slicking himself as quickly as he could, Tiago then straddled James’ hips and settled himself down onto the man’s cock. His eyes widened slightly at the unaccustomed fullness, and he said, “You’ll have to be patient with me, James. I’m afraid it’s been awhile.”

James didn’t reply, but then, he had his eyes tightly closed in concentration, and Tiago appreciated the fact that he didn’t immediately thrust upward into him. As close to climaxing as James had been, he was displaying admirable restraint in that respect.

Slowly, gradually, he eased James inside until he was firmly seated, then tried moving just slightly, tightening his abdominal muscles and gently compressing James’ shaft as he grew accustomed to its bulk.

Gasping, James’ eyes flew open at that, and he reached tentatively for Tiago’s now only partially erect, but gradually recovering cock.

Tiago tapped the hand, shaking his head, then smiled slightly with no small degree of mischief. “No, James. I have a better idea. Why don’t you put your hands over your head and keep them there please?”

James complied, reluctantly, and then looked at Tiago with visible trepidation. “You’re not going to restrain my hands?”

Arching an eyebrow, Tiago said, “Do I need to?”

Eyes widening again, James shook his head slowly.

Smiling, Tiago proceeded to lift himself up then back down, grunting in pleasure at the direct strike on his prostate. 

As he continued this, James attempted to meet his thrusts by raising his hips, and Tiago once again discouraged this by tapping him lightly on a hipbone. “Let me do the work this time, hmm?”

James looked at him oddly, but given how Tiago had teased him unmercifully before, he was quite right to do so. Giving himself time to catch up to his lover, Tiago kept his movements staggered, not allowing James to settle into a rhythm and purposely slowing when James got too close.

At one point, lost in his own sensations, he misjudged how close James was to climax and had to stop completely, reaching behind himself to encircle the base of James’ cock and prevent his incipient orgasm. 

James bucked slightly in protest, gasping out loud, but Tiago refused to give in. He merely settled himself completely on James’ cock, holding down his hips with one hand and then stroking James’ perineum and the small accessible portion of the man’s cock with his other until James allowed him to take back control.

 _Dios_ , but James was truly magnificent like this -- eyes dilated completely, sweat slickened, desperate and needy, but still obeying Tiago to the best of his ability -- and Tiago had to close his eyes for a second to get _himself_ back under control. Inhaling deeply, he arched his back, driving James’ cock further inside and then slowly rotating his hips.

James again made a harsh sound of complaint, eyes wide, and Tiago chuckled. As much as he wanted this to last all night, he knew his arse would likely regret it in the morning. 

“Oh, all right, since you insist.” Tiago began to move in earnest then, ever so gradually increasing the speed and force of his movements. James instinctually tried to thrust as the tempo increased, but Tiago refused to allow it, merely stopping altogether any time the man attempted it. 

James’ hands, which he still held obediently above his head, tightened helplessly into fists, but he eventually realized that the quickest way to orgasm was to allow Tiago to set the pace.

As he felt himself get close, Tiago fisted his own cock in one hand while he slammed harder and faster down onto James. He again arched his back, taking him even deeper, and with a strangled shout, James finally climaxed inside him. 

Twisting his hips to strike his own prostate at a better angle, Tiago came himself, and his involuntary tightening around James caused another strangled gasp from the man beneath him.

Tiago collapsed to his elbows on either side of James’ chest, feeling the man gradually soften inside of him but in no particular hurry to move. 

Hell, he might _never_ move.

When he looked up, he saw James staring at him with a strange mix of sated pleasure and frustrated confusion. “I honestly don’t know what you want from me,” he said.

Reaching out with one hand to James’ cheek, but not quite touching it, Tiago said, “I thought that was fairly obvious. Hmm?” He indicated his position, still impaled on James’ cock. “I want you, and I want your consent.”

James exhaled loudly, disbelievingly, but after a moment of glaring silently at Tiago, he shifted his head slightly so his cheek met Tiago’s palm. “My consent is optional. I’m a whore, after all.”

Shaking his head while he caressed the proffered cheek lightly, Tiago replied, “I don’t think you always were, and I don’t think that’s all you are now. It’s certainly not what you have to be in the future. There are always choices.”

Stiffening suddenly, James shoved him off without any warning, and Tiago winced at the man’s abrupt departure from his tender arse. 

_So much for the warm afterglow._

James paced rapidly back and forth in the confined area, plainly irritated that he couldn’t simply leave the suite altogether. Tiago merely waited patiently, taking the opportunity to wipe himself clean after their encounter, knowing he dare not intercede with James at the moment.

When he had apparently reined in the worst of his anger, James turned to him and said bitterly, “There are no choices. Fate is a bitch, and She doesn’t appreciate it when you try to circumvent Her plans.”

“And have you, James? Tried to circumvent Her plans?” When James said nothing, his eyes flashing dangerously, Tiago continued, “So you have tried to escape from here.”

“Of course I have. Don’t be an idiot.”

Smiling tightly, Tiago said, “I try not to be.” Taking a calculated risk, Tiago approached James and cornered him against the wall. 

James stiffened slightly, but he didn’t try to evade him.

Tiago said, “My guess is you’ve not only tried, but succeeded. But then they brought you back.” He got his confirmation through the narrowing of James’ eyes. “They implanted a transponder?”

“They sure as hell weren’t keeping me here any other way.”

Tiago lifted an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you simply remove it yourself?”

“I did. Twice.” He jerked his chin up angrily. “When they got tired of tracking me down the hard way, they got creative with its placement.”

Tiago closed his eyes briefly. It was just as he had assumed then. He placed his hand on the vertical, neatly sutured, partially faded scar in the center of James’ chest. He said nonchalantly, “This is a surgical scar. It’s in the precise location for open heart surgery, but it’s not nearly long enough.”

James tilted his head in acknowledgment. “They only had to open my chest far enough to insert the transponder, but it’s close enough to my heart that I can’t remove it without killing myself in the process.”

Tiago tilted his head to one side, curious. “You seem quite certain of that.”

Unaccountably, James laughed. “Oh, yes. _Dead_ certain,” he said, his voice self-mocking and bitterly, bitterly cold.

Tiago simply couldn’t understand why James’ house would go to such incredible extremes. They must spend an inordinate amount of time and effort to keep this dangerous man under control. Granted, he was exquisite and likely had acquired an exclusive, affluent clientele over the years, but why perform what amounted to open heart surgery simply to subdue him? It was Tiago’s understanding that when a member of a house became too much trouble, they were simply eliminated. There was always a supply of younger, more impressionable and therefore pliable ‘recruits’ to replace them.

Like the man himself, it was a mystery. But Tiago knew he would unravel neither mystery tonight.

He held out his hand and said softly, “Come lie down with me, James. We’re both too exhausted to continue this now.”

At first, he thought the man would refuse, but he finally allowed Tiago to guide him back to the bed.

Tiago might have normally considered this a victory, but he was painfully aware that James had absolutely nowhere else to go.


	4. Chapter 4

On the fourth night, James was no longer surprised to find Tiago in the room. 

Tiago was careful not to push too hard, but the man still looked at him warily at times, and he would occasionally flinch if Tiago moved too suddenly. It didn’t fit with the steel nerves he _knew_ the man possessed simply from watching him interact with others, even those who were significantly larger and stronger than him. 

And it certainly didn’t fit with their almost nightly sparring matches when James presented a confident, capable demeanour and was clearly enjoying their mutual exercise.

Of course, James knew that Tiago was an eminently dangerous man, because he had killed Patrice. However, there was clearly no love lost between those two, so it didn’t quite add up. Tiago had certainly never threatened _James_ in any way.

It was a dichotomy, because at other times he melted into Tiago’s embrace as if he’d been there all his life. During these times, Tiago could almost fool himself that James was as enamoured of him as he was of James. He knew it was wishful thinking on his part, but where there was life, there was hope.

This night, James seemed to be especially receptive to his advances and had actually offered himself to Tiago.

Grateful and feeling almost honoured, Tiago had taken more time than necessary to insure the man was prepared, and when he entered James at long last, it felt ridiculously like coming home.

Tiago was almost reverent in his attention to James’ body as he slowly pistoned his hips, insuring that he grazed against the man’s prostate on every stroke. James had initially knelt on hands and knees for him, but Tiago pulled James’ upper torso against his so he could wrap his arms completely around his lover as he moved slowly inside him. 

James moaned as the abrupt change in position caused more intense stimulation, but he had realized by now that it was more expedient to merely submit to Tiago’s pace. He had also learned not to attempt touching himself, as Tiago was proprietary about insuring that _he_ was the one to bring James to completion.

This night, Tiago kept his strokes slow and deliberate as he latched onto James’ neck to mark him, yet again, teasing a nipple with one hand and stroking his abdomen ever so lightly with the other.

James arched his back, but then just as quickly subsided when that movement caused him to lose some of Tiago’s depth of penetration inside him. 

Tiago chuckled at the man’s moan of combined frustration and arousal. He thrust upward strongly and James groaned again. Tiago bent over and whispered in his ear, “I’m willing to bet I could make you come without ever touching your cock.” 

He sidetracked James’ incipient protest by kissing him lightly on the neck. “But some other time perhaps, hmm? I don’t want you to regret offering yourself to me.” With that, he ran his hand lightly up and down James’ rigid cock, enjoying the silent shudder that produced. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For me to touch you like this?” 

Tiago didn’t wait for a reply, but slowly increased his thrusts as he gradually tightened his grip on the man’s cock, balancing each action delicately so that he could incrementally ratchet up the tension. He could draw out both his and James’ pleasure for an inordinate amount of time in this manner, and he indulged himself for awhile, reveling in the slick tightness of James’ channel around his own cock. 

James was gasping now, and they were both covered in sweat from their exertions, so Tiago regretfully increased his speed to bring them release before the pleasure edged into pain. James threw his head back as he came, and Tiago once again latched onto his neck as he thrust hard and closely followed James over the brink. 

Tiago released James’ neck, but the man kept his head tilted back on Tiago’s shoulder, gasping audibly for breath. When Tiago gradually softened enough to pull out, he eased James down next to him as he sat back against the bedframe.

James’ body was almost boneless in its sated relaxation. 

Tiago smiled down at him. “You liked that, did you?”

James tilted his head to look up at him. “That should be bloody obvious,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “And I’m supposed to believe you’re a genius?” Shaking his head at Tiago’s devilish smile, James reached for a towel to wipe off his chest and abdomen. Handing the towel to Tiago, he shifted position slightly and winced, adding, “Damn. You’ll be the death of me someday.”

Tiago had been attending to his own cleanup and therefore caught only a hint of the odd expression crossing the man’s face, but James often tended to get maudlin when post-coital. It was an extremely bad habit of his.

He tossed the towel away and lay down next to James, tugging him close to his chest. The man resisted briefly before almost reluctantly relaxing against him. This subtle resistance to trusting Tiago had also become somewhat of a nightly ritual for him.

Tiago sighed. It might take him a lifetime to break all of James’ bad habits. But then, that wasn’t an _entirely_ unpleasant proposition. 

At least, not the ‘lifetime’ part.

************************************

Much later, he and James were getting dressed when the sound of a startled shout followed by a series of gunshots disrupted the early morning calm.

Tiago immediately reached for his own gun and headed for the door. He didn’t know exactly what was causing the disturbance, but he was determined that it was wasn’t going to reach James. He looked back over his shoulder, “Stay here.”

James shook his head emphatically. “Like bloody hell, I will.”

Tiago saw the determined expression on his lover’s face and winced. “James, what do you expect to accomplish? You’re not even armed.”

“That’s a situation that can be remedied later. Just move. If they get a foothold in the place, they’ll be much harder to repulse.”

Tiago shook his head but allowed James to follow him out the door and into the hallway. “You know what’s going on then?”

James nodded, then took the arm of the passing, extremely frightened Jingfei and herded her toward a room, telling her to lock the door and remain quiet. The girl nodded, wide-eyed, then turned quickly to follow his instructions.

Turning back to Tiago and jogging beside him down the hallway, James said, “There are gangs, sometimes even rival houses or casinos, who will occasionally attempt a raid. With the amount of money earned at a successful establishment like this, it’s a temptation they occasionally don’t bother to resist.” 

As they were about to enter the balcony over the main casino floor, they nearly collided with a couple of men dressed in dark clothing with masks partially covering their faces. Tiago shot both of them before they could even aim their guns properly at them. 

One of the men died instantly, but the other was finished off by James who kicked the injured man brutally, snapping his head back and likely breaking his neck. James grabbed the man’s gun before he’d even finished collapsing to the floor and then followed Tiago out onto the balcony without a word.

Tiago narrowed his eyes. If James hadn’t killed before, he would be thoroughly surprised. There wasn’t even a hint of remorse or regret in the man’s demeanour.

They emerged onto the balcony to discover a running firefight in progress on the casino floor beneath them. The already subdued lighting in the casino switched off abruptly, and now the only illumination came from the flickering firepots scattered around the casino floor and the paltry emergency lighting. Tiago assumed it a casino employee had disconnected the electricity -– the relative darkness would be less of a handicap for those intimately familiar with the layout of the place.

The invaders currently appeared to have the upper hand, mostly due to the element of surprise, but Tiago didn’t expect that to last. From this vantage point on the balcony, they didn’t appear to be very well organized, and they certainly weren’t coordinating their attack.

Sloppy. Very sloppy.

They encountered another masked intruder as they cut through the bar on their way to the staircase. Taken by surprise, he and James both leapt over the bar for cover and waited for the volley of bullets to subside. This man was definitely not subtle, and it didn’t appear as if he were even aiming, not if the resultant shattering of a multitude of liquor bottles behind them was any indication.

“Fucker,” James said suddenly, stood, and fired off two quick rounds that silenced their adversary permanently.

Tiago looked at James with surprise, somewhat taken aback by his sudden ferocity, not to mention recklessness.

James only shrugged. “One of those bottles was a 50-year old Macallan,” he explained. “I’ve had my heart set on that for months.”

Tiago laughed. At least James had his priorities straight.

They made it down the staircase without further incident, but someone appeared suddenly from the shadows around the Komodo dragon pit. James whirled around and shot him high in the shoulder. The man dropped his gun, which slid on the canted walkway, falling irrevocably into the darkness of the pit. 

James seemed to hesitate, his body appearing almost immobilized, before he finally lowered his gun and then simply punched the man, knocking him to the floor, most likely only unconscious.

A sudden spray of shots from an automatic weapon sent both Tiago and James scurrying for cover, and as they huddled together behind an overturned gaming table, Tiago said, “You should have killed him, you know. It’s never wise to leave a live combatant behind you.”

James fired off a snap shot that amazingly killed one of their assailants who had been _mostly_ protected behind a pillar. He glanced over at Tiago. “Didn’t want to waste the ammunition.” He ejected the clip to check his remaining rounds and then slammed it back home. “He’ll be dead in a few minutes anyway. Brain aneurysm,” he said matter-of-factly.

Tiago’s eyebrows rose. He wondered how James had arrived at that conclusion from just glancing at the man, but he definitely didn’t have time to query him now as another flurry of shots forced them to hunch down further behind their meager cover.

One of the casino employees managed to eliminate the invader who had been keeping them pinned down, and James jerked his chin in the direction of the cashier’s counter. Tiago acknowledged him with a grunt, and they took turns covering each other as they crossed the intervening floor to what James had correctly assumed to be the invaders’ eventual destination. 

If Tiago had any doubts about James having some sort of prior military or paramilitary training, they were certainly dispelled by this point. They worked together as if they’d trained in the same unit, and James still wasn’t demonstrating the least bit of hesitation or remorse as they gradually picked off their foes. 

As they neared the cashier’s area, James waved Tiago the right as he started around to the left, and Tiago sprinted in that direction without argument. James knew the layout better than he did, and setting up a crossfire to eliminate the remaining threat would have been his own strategy regardless. 

From the diminishing number of gunshots, it would appear that the last vestiges of the attackers were now lying low behind the counter. They had to realize they were now heavily outnumbered and outgunned, as one man made a desperate attempt to flee, throwing himself bodily through the small cashier’s window and firing in James’ direction as he did so.

Tiago and James fired simultaneously, and the man was dead before he even hit the floor. 

There was a flurry of shouted Chinese as the remaining casino employees converged on Tiago’s and James’ position, but the few invaders who had survived didn’t bother replying. They stood as one, evidently assuming that surrender wasn’t an option, and shot at least two of the casino employees before they were permanently silenced themselves in a volley of automatic weapon fire.

As the casino finally grew silent, a few of the casino’s employees stood and began moving from body to body, verifying that all of the invaders were dead. Tiago holstered his weapon and walked toward where James was standing calmly, gun still in hand, but with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. 

The man Tiago recognized as James’ handler reached him first, holding out his hand imperiously, and after a slight hesitation, James handed him his pistol. The handler then said something in rapid fire Chinese that Tiago didn’t quite catch, and James shook his head. The man paused for a moment, then made a gesture that James apparently understood all too well.

James spread his legs slightly and held his arms out to the side, and his handler checked him, very thoroughly, for any additional weapons he might have concealed. When he was finished, he again spoke briefly to James, who merely nodded once.

His handler strode off to direct the other employees in the cleanup operation, but he nodded slightly to Tiago in apparent gratitude as he passed.

Tiago wasn’t asked to surrender his own gun, but then, he wasn’t exactly surprised. This casino was apparently accustomed to catering to a relatively dangerous clientele, and they were quite correct in assuming he wasn’t surrendering his weapon, even if he _was_ asked nicely.

When Tiago finally reached James’ side, he said simply, “Why?”

“‘Why’ what?” James replied, his voice dull and toneless.

Tiago waved his hand at the carnage. “Why help these people at all when you’re being held against your will?”

“Most of the employees here are innocents.” He glared at Tiago. “Besides, it’s either help kill the invaders or stand around and let them kill me. Normally, I’d be locked in a room and forced to wait on the outcome. If it were a rival house who prevailed, I’d only be changing owners. If it were one of the gangs, I’d be dead.” He looked briefly in the direction his handler had gone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve been instructed to return to my room.”

He turned, walking purposefully away.

Of course, Tiago followed him. Sometimes it felt as if there was some kind of invisible tether binding him to this fascinating but nearly incomprehensible man. “This can’t happen very often,” Tiago said conversationally, indicating the bodies strewn across the floor. “Bad for business, I would think.”

Shrugging, James replied, “No, it doesn’t, and when it does, it’s generally only a quick hit and run operation. This is the first full scale attack we’ve encountered since I’ve been here.” 

They passed the man James had wounded over the dragon pit, and Tiago was shocked to find the man was indeed dead, eyes wide and staring. A quick glance at the body displayed no other injuries besides the clearly non-fatal shoulder wound.

James glanced at the man inexpressively as they passed. 

“How did you know he would die?” Tiago asked curiously.

James hesitated, then shrugged slightly. “His pupils were dilated, he appeared to have trouble focussing, and he stumbled right before I shot him. Classic symptoms of an aneurysm.”

 _And likely a lot of other things,_ Tiago thought to himself, but he decided to let it ride. Tiago was certainly no expert in the field of medicine, but perhaps James had some advanced medical training to complement his other, more lethal skills. He certainly couldn’t argue with the fact that James had accurately assessed the man’s impending mortality. 

James seemed to possess almost endless depths, and Tiago had a feeling he was only glimpsing the surface. “You know, for someone who considers themselves ‘only a whore’, you appear well acquainted with death . . . and killing. Almost cavalier, as a matter of fact.”

James shot him a hard glance, but then he smiled grimly. “Everyone dies . . . eventually. If Fate decrees that I’m to be the instrument of someone’s death, who am I to argue with the meddlesome bitch?”

************************************

“I trust you have a very good reason for recalling me to London, Mum, because I’ll have you know, your timing is impeccably _bad_.”

M glared at him over the expanse of her desk. “I wasn’t aware I was required to rationalize my directives to you, 001.” 

Tiago prepared to fire back a heated response, but what he Saw in her core stopped him cold. He sat back further in his chair. “Perhaps I should rephrase that. What is making you feel so guilty and uncomfortable that you were forced to recall me to London?”

“Guilt is irrelevant, Rodriguez, and the moment I feel even vaguely uncomfortable about directing my agents as I deem fit is the moment I shall retire from this position.” She fixed her most forbidding gaze on him, daring him to argue. When Tiago remained wisely silent, she continued, “I’ve given you nearly a week, and your ‘promising lead’ has yet to produce any information on that bloody drive. It’s time to redirect your efforts before the _actual_ trail gets any colder than it already has.”

Tiago again wished his gift was a little more specific, because he was willing to bet she was lying to him about something important. Something _extremely_ important. But then, ever since she had become aware of his gift, she’d gotten much more adept at masking her true ‘appearance’ to his Sight.

Well, perhaps a verbal fishing expedition might be in order. “I’m sure you’re right, Mum. I’ll leave immediately.” He started to rise from the chair, then sat back down heavily, snapping his fingers. “Oh yes, I almost forgot. Just out of curiosity, do you know of any male field agents who were presumed dead, but whose bodies were never recovered, say, between five to ten years ago?”

“A great many operatives have lost their lives while employed with this agency, Mr. Rodriguez. Surprisingly enough, that is why there are so many names inscribed on the Memorial Wall.” She graced him with another icy stare. “I would suggest you suspend your puerile interest in the remote past and instead concentrate your efforts on preventing any _additional_ names from appearing on that wall.”

Oh, she was definitely hiding something. How _intriguing_. 

Tiago merely nodded to her pleasantly and took his leave, but they both knew he wasn’t giving up that easily.

Upon exiting MI6 headquarters, he took a moment to peruse the Memorial Wall. M was quite correct about one thing. There _were_ an exceedingly large number of names engraved on that wall, but for some reason, one name in particular seemed to draw Tiago’s attention like an emergency flare. It was already exhibiting the faintest blurring from age, but the name itself was still quite clear and distinct. In fact, it possessed an almost intangible but slightly shimmering aura of its own.

His gift had never reacted to inanimate objects before, but he was willing to bet this sudden conviction he felt was not a coincidence.

Tiago drove directly to his flat, booted his computer and hacked into the MI6 servers. The new Q they’d recently acquired had tightened the security protocols substantially from the regime of the old Q, but Tiago was an exceptionally adept hacker, and it took him relatively little time to access the old personnel files.

What he _didn’t_ find, however, was a record of any field agent with the name he’d found on the wall, or even anyone with that surname. Either the agent had died a long time ago and the entry was inscribed on the wall before they’d kept computer records, which was _highly_ unlikely, or someone had gone to a great deal of effort to purge this man’s existence entirely. 

Tiago knew it was a stretch that his Macau enigma and this supposedly deceased MI6 agent might be one and the same, but the strange reaction of his gift coupled with the apparent purging of the agent’s existence by MI6, as well as Mummy’s strange reaction to his prying, had consolidated this possibility into a certainty for him. He sat back in his chair and rested his chin on his hands. 

He briefly considered attempting a wider Internet search, but the name was a common one in Britain, and he didn’t think it was worth his time. Nor would it gain him the information that he most needed to know –- namely, how this agent had ended up as property of the Macau sex trade in the first place.

No, it was time to confront M again, and determine just how far her patience with her favourite double-oh would stretch.

************************************

As he had suspected, M was still in her office working late, and he therefore marched unannounced and unimpeded into her office. He hitched a hip on the edge of her desk and said simply, “Bond. James Bond.”

Her eyes widened only minutely, but her inner core positively seethed with chagrin and discomfort to his Sight. 

“Oh, dear,” Tiago said. “If _that_ reaction doesn’t have an utterly fascinating story behind it, I’ll forfeit a year’s pay. Do tell, Mum.”

“And you’re quite certain this is a story you _wish_ to hear, Mr. Rodriquez? Guilt is an emotion you’ve handled exceptionally poorly in the past.”

Tiago blinked several times. There was crystal clear conviction in her adamantine core now, and he felt the barest stirring of doubt. However, Tiago was certain he’d never even _met_ Agent Bond before, so this culpability she had alluded to couldn’t possibly exist.

“You said it yourself, Mum. We must locate that drive, and I still firmly believe that James can lead us to it.” He leaned over, trying to impress upon her his sense of urgency. “But I need information. If James is truly a former MI6 agent, then perhaps I can convince him to . . .”

M held up a hand, and the glint in her eyes, and in her soul, caused Tiago to close his mouth with a snap.

“If this man you’ve encountered truly _is_ James Bond, and I do believe he is, then the very last thing he would do is cooperate with anyone from this agency.” She glared at him, silencing his incipient question. “As I told you earlier, Mr. Rodriguez, I don’t believe your source to be a practical one, and Bond is likely to merely kill you if he gets half a chance. I would firmly advise that you never give him that opportunity.”

So _that_ was why she pulled him out of Macau. He should be pleased that she cared enough to distance him from someone she considered a potential threat, but it wasn’t adding up. M would never let personal feelings interfere with a mission, especially not one this damn important. That’s why she had so many field agents in the first place. 

Because they were expendable.

“Humour me, M. You know I love a good bedtime story.”

She stared at him for some time, but then sighed and rubbed her eyes wearily. “Very well, 001, I will tell you Bond’s story, for all the good it will do anyone involved.” She angrily waved him to the chair. “Go and sit down. I refuse to have you breathing down my neck the entire time. You’re in desperate need of a shower.”

Tiago huffed indignantly but did as he was requested. Besides, he got the distinct impression that she was merely providing crucial space for both of them. He was beginning to suspect he wouldn’t like this tale at all.

M barely waited for him to be seated before she began. She wasn’t one to waste time when she’d made a decision, particularly one she didn’t like. 

“James Bond was an orphan whom I recruited directly out of the Royal Navy as a _very_ young man. He was eager to pursue field work, and he had absolutely no desire to ‘waste time’ here at HQ.” M paused a moment and looked at him. “He was _almost_ as impatient as you, but I foolishly acceded to his wishes and had him posted to Station H.”

“When was this?” Tiago asked curiously. At least now he understood why he had never encountered the man before. 

“In ‘97,” M said shortly, “a few months before the transition.”

Tiago whistled. “Into the frying pan,” he said.

“Yes, well, Bond proceeded to throw _himself_ into the fire, and not long after he was posted there.” She shook her head. “Bloody foolish idiot.”

Tiago Looked at her closely and Saw genuine regret behind the aggravated facade. This was _definitely_ not good. “What happened?”

“Bond was pursuing a man suspected of terrorism -- well, more than simply _suspected_ , since Bond caught him actually planting the explosives. Unfortunately, his pursuit of this man led him directly into the headquarters of the Ministry of State Security.”

Tiago’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Why would a terrorist who was attempting to evade capture waltz directly into the Chinese intelligence service HQ? Seems rather counterproductive to me.”

“Not when you’re a terrorist who _works_ for the Chinese intelligence service, it doesn’t.”

“Fuck,” Tiago said succinctly.

M nodded. “Bond shot and killed the man, in clear view of their security cameras, and the Chinese . . . were not amused.”

Tiago merely looked at her for a moment. “Even angrier than when I hacked into their computer systems, I assume?” His eyes unfocussed as he thought back. “I made that particular hack at approximately the same time.”

“Actually, it was _exactly_ the same time, give or take a few days, which was why I was able to convince the Ministry that both assaults on their state security were initiated by the same perpetrator.”

Tiago felt his eyes widen. “What?”

“You heard me. You were _almost_ careful enough. They couldn’t trace your hacking back to its origin in London, but they _did_ know the hack originated from someone within MI6. They already had Bond. I saw no need to sacrifice yet another agent who was operating beyond his brief.”

“You _gave_ James to them? Without objecting? Without even attempting to get him back?”

M glared daggers at him. “Of course I objected, but England had absolutely no solid foundation for demanding his return. Bond had shot and killed an agent of a foreign government on the grounds of its intelligence service headquarters, and they had inarguable evidence of _your_ hacking into their most closely guarded secrets. What do you expect happened?” She looked away briefly, her voice suddenly sounding tired and old. “At least I was able to achieve a smooth transition instead of inciting a major diplomatic incident, and I received six agents in return.”

Tiago was appalled. So _that_ was the source of most of James’ scars. Not excessive abuse at the hands of his clients, but systematic torture by the Chinese. 

“I see. All’s well that ends well then,” Tiago said bitterly. “Do you mind telling me how James ended up in the Macau sex trade instead of languishing in a Chinese prison?”

M took a deep breath, but her eyes were steady as they looked into his. “Many of the Chinese political prisoners find their way into the sex trade, at least the young and good-looking ones. That way, the Ministry isn’t forced to guard a prisoner they no longer have a use for, and the trade acquires an asset they are under no constraints to treat gently. In fact, they are strongly encouraged _not_ to treat them gently.”

“You knew.” Tiago was furious. Hell, he was way beyond furious.

“No, I sincerely believed Bond was dead. I didn’t know he’d been relegated to the sex trade until you mentioned his existence and I saw the photo Eve subsequently took of him at the casino.”

Tiago found he had to forcibly restrain himself from throttling the old woman. He lurched out of his chair and made a potentially futile effort to pace off some of his anger. 

“Rodriguez, at least _now_ you understand why this man would have no interest in assisting MI6. He can only assume that we had betrayed him.”

He rounded on her, eyes wide with fury. “You _did_ betray him, there is no ‘assuming’ about it.” Tiago stalked toward her, and she stood quickly to face him. Her soul flickered gray with trepidation, but she was not backing down at his menacing presence. He snarled, “This trip down memory lane is genuinely fascinating, but unfortunately, it’s a moot point since James doesn’t even _remember_ MI6!” 

“What?”

“He has no memory of his life before Macau. He recalls nothing besides his carefree years spent as a sex slave for that wretched house.” He leaned down, looming over her. “There is no reason for him to withhold his assistance to us, since he recalls nothing of what _you_ did to him in the first place.”

M sat down heavily in the chair, suddenly appearing much older. “It doesn’t change anything, Rodriguez. I made a deal with the Chinese, and I cannot authorize Bond’s retrieval and renege on that arrangement. It could cause a catastrophic international incident.”

“Well, _I_ certainly wasn’t a party to making that deal, and it’s a shame I have such significant issues with authority, isn’t it?” Tiago replied darkly. 

Unable to stay any longer for fear of doing the woman irretrievable harm, Tiago spun on his heel and headed for the door.

“Rodriguez.”

He paused, hand on the doorknob, gripping it so tightly he was surprised he didn’t dent it.

“Should you, for any reason, require _two_ plane tickets back to London, you’ll bloody well pay for the second one yourself.” Her voice hardened. “MI6 cannot be held responsible for those particular charges. _At all._ Do you understand?” 

Tiago smiled slightly, knowing she couldn’t see it. Perhaps there was hope for the heartless dragon lady yet.

“Clear as crystal, Mum. Clear as crystal.”


	5. Chapter 5

After taking the time to requisition, and subsequently modify, a specialized piece of electronic equipment from Q branch, Tiago grudgingly received permission to ‘borrow’ the young female agent he had worked with in Turkey.

Upon their arrival at the Macau casino the next day, however, James was nowhere to be found. 

They circled around to the center of the casino after they had both performed their sweeps, and Eve shook her head at his raised eyebrow. “Nothing,” she said. “However, I did inquire of one of the bartenders, and she would only say that, ‘James is not working tonight.’” 

“Could be good, or could be bad.”

Eve shook her head again. “I’m leaning toward ‘bad.’ She wouldn’t look me in the eye, and she sounded more than a little distressed.”

Tiago swore, in Spanish, but apparently Eve spoke at least some of the language since she raised a mildly shocked eyebrow at him.

Spotting James’ handler at the far side of the casino floor, Tiago said, “I’m going to attempt to negotiate a transaction for him. If you don’t hear back from me before the casino closes, leave. Otherwise, I’ll signal you when it’s time.”

She nodded slightly then made her way, leisurely, to an unoccupied table. 

After she had sat down, Tiago briefly turned on his transceiver and said, “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” came the reply, as she leaned back in her chair and sipped at her drink.

Tiago thoroughly approved of this one. She was calm, collected, and didn’t behave like a novice field agent at all. She hadn’t even touched the ear containing her transceiver once.

_Imagine._

Satisfied that his back-up was briefed and in place, Tiago sauntered over to James’ handler and inquired if he were available that night.

At first the man simply shook his head, telling him that James was ‘indisposed.’ However, when Tiago applied his charm, persuasiveness and then hinted that ‘indisposed’ was actually a preference of his, the handler finally agreed, at a significantly higher rate than usual.

Tiago was more than happy to pay the exorbitant fee, since this would hopefully be his last visit to this wretched place.

When he arrived at the suite, he found James face down on the bed, apparently asleep, and naked from the waist up. 

As Tiago approached the bed, however, his hands instantly curled into fists. Apparently, ‘indisposed’ was somewhat of an understatement. James’ back bore a multitude of telltale welts as well as the vivid black and blue marks that indicated a recent and brutally effective caning. 

Knowing that James still possessed the instincts, if not the memories, of a field agent, he decided it was best to wake him from a safe distance. “James,” he called softly.

James immediately jolted awake, rolling over into a defensive crouch, but gasping at the pain the sudden movement caused his injuries.

Tiago sat down on the bed some distance away, attempting to reassure. “I’m sorry, James. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He held out an open hand in mute appeal. “I didn’t know how else to wake you.”

Shifting painfully to a cross-legged position on the bed, James rubbed at his eyes, a manoeuvre that again made him appear absurdly, almost obscenely young. After a moment or two, he said, “I’m afraid I’m not up to much tonight. You really have wasted Patrice’s money this time.”

“Actually,” Tiago said, “I’m here to offer you a slightly different proposition.”

For some odd reason, James’ eyes instantly became wary. “What do you mean?”

“What if I told you that I know who you really are and where you’re from?”

James’ eyes glinted dangerously. “Then I’d say I could only take your word for my supposed past, and that it wouldn’t change my current situation in the slightest.”

Tiago sighed. _This was going well. Might as well take the bull by the horns._

“Your name is James Bond. You were a field agent for Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service until you were captured by the Chinese six years ago and presumed killed.”

“And the rumours of my death were greatly exaggerated, I suppose?” James asked bitterly.

Wincing, Tiago said, “Something like that.”

James smiled darkly. “Your fairy tale starts off well, but it has a completely crap ending. You should work on your storytelling techniques.”

“I’m telling you the truth, James.”

“Like I said, I’ll take your word for it. Now, what do you _really_ want from me?” 

Tiago couldn’t bring himself to lie to this man. Not after everything he’d been through. “Patrice stole a computer hard drive that MI6 desperately needs to retrieve. Agents’ lives are at stake. I was hoping you might know of any accomplices, friends, or relatives of Patrice –- anyone he might possibly have given the drive to before he died.”

James laughed. “Well, your storytelling is definitely improving. I suppose we've reached the part where my pathetic love of country suddenly emerges and persuades me to help you?”

Tiago closed his eyes briefly. _Here goes nothing._ “No, James, I’m hoping that my newfound, pathetic love of _you_ might persuade you to help.” He watched as James’ eyes widened incredulously. “I realize you must think I’m crazy, since I’ve known you for less than a week. I certainly can’t _explain_ this feeling, James, but I assure you, I’m perfectly serious.”

“You actually think you love me.”

“Yes, and if you come with me, I can prove it to you. We’ll have all the time in the world then.”

James shook his head, then slowly and carefully climbed off the bed. “You have absolutely _no_ idea how horribly wrong you are.”

More than slightly disillusioned, Tiago merely watched as James made his painfully slow way to the loo. He could have sworn that James felt at least some _affection_ for him, if nothing like this completely inexplicable, yet totally inescapable emotion he held for James. 

When James returned to the room, he was carrying some sort of parcel wrapped securely in plastic. He sat down on the bed, unwrapped the plastic, then tossed two items cavalierly across the bed to Tiago.

One was a cellphone . . . and the other was a computer hard drive.

Tiago looked at them in shock for a second or two before he gingerly picked up the drive. He looked up at James inquiringly.

“Patrice didn’t _have_ accomplices, nor friends. He didn’t trust anyone enough for that.” James’ voice was almost lifeless, it was so monotone. “He left the drive here when he was called away suddenly for the Shanghai job, knowing _I_ sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere.”

“And the cellphone?”

James shrugged. “It’s one of his. He keeps multiple units and disposes of them regularly. This one, however, I lifted from him before he left. It was the phone he used to arrange the job in Turkey. It’s password protected with something I can’t break, but I’m sure that won’t be an issue for your people.” 

Tiago was so completely flummoxed, he was speechless, which didn’t happen very often.

If at all. 

It wasn’t just the unsuspected retrieval of the hard drive, but with the phone, he could actually track down who had _hired_ Patrice to do the job. It was a windfall of unimaginable proportions, and both had been waiting patiently in this suite the entire time Tiago was in Macau.

“James . . .” he began.

His face still unreadable, James said, “He thought I was unconscious and held one of the conversations with his client here. Female, British, upper crust, far too accustomed to wielding power.” He carefully lay down on the bed, turning his back to Tiago, his body language unmistakable. “Now that you’ve got what you came for, you’re free to leave.”

 _Madre de Dios_ , but the man was being intentionally obtuse.

“I’m not leaving here without you, James.”

James’ body tensed in what Tiago interpreted as surprise. He slowly turned to face him.

“I gave you the drive, what else do you need from me?” James inquired incredulously.

“I already told you what I want from you.”

James shook his head. “And I think you’re daft, but regardless, in case it’s escaped your mind, there’s a very good reason I can’t leave here.” He jerked his chin toward the scar on his chest.

Tiago pulled out a small device from his jacket pocket and held it out for James to see. “Latest thing from our technical branch. It’s a radio frequency jammer, but I’ve modified it to scramble only a very specific frequency.” He tilted his head. “Yours.”

When James didn’t reply, Tiago added, “I have a surgical suite waiting to remove your transponder. Permanently.”

James shook his head. “No, this isn’t going to work.”

Tiago crawled over the bed toward James, relieved when the man didn’t attempt to evade him. “James, I’m _not_ going to leave you here.”

“No,” James said stubbornly.

Grabbing one of James’ hands, Tiago said, “Are you concerned about my plans for the escape attempt, or perhaps the surgical procedure itself? I’m not about to let you die, you know.”

“No,” James said again, firmly. “I know I won’t die during the escape attempt, nor will I die during the surgery. I _know_ ,” he repeated, his eyes unfocussing slightly, as Tiago had seen happen once before with this man. 

In fact, Tiago suddenly realized he _knew_ that look. He knew it very well indeed. In a mirror, his eyes appeared exactly the same whenever he used his Sight. He felt his breath catch in his throat. Was it possible he wasn’t alone in possessing such a gift? 

As he contemplated this, puzzle pieces began to tumble madly into place. “You didn’t _diagnose_ that man’s death of an aneurysm,” Tiago said with sudden assurance, “you _predicted_ it.”

James nodded reluctantly.

“So, you’re clairvoyant then?”

Laughing bitterly, James said, “Nothing so bloody useful.” 

When it became clear that James had no intention of clarifying that statement, Tiago reached tentatively for his hand again and began rubbing small, soothing circles on his palm. He desperately wanted to encourage him to continue, and James sometimes responded better to a simple touch than Tiago’s admittedly smart mouth. 

It was unbelievably sad, because James’ whole livelihood was based on touch, yet he seemed almost starved for it.

James stared down at their joined hands and sighed. “Fuck it. It’s not as if explaining will bloody well change anything.” He paused a moment, then said, “No, I can’t see the future, at least not future events in general.” He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself, but kept his gaze downcast. “But I can see Death, or more accurately, when I make eye contact with someone, I can See exactly how that person will die.”

Tiago felt his eyes widen, but he didn't doubt James’ assertion, not in the least. 

_Amazing._ There were two of us. M had somehow managed to recruit _two_ agents with paranormal gifts. It couldn't be a coincidence. Either these gifts were more commonplace than Tiago had ever dreamed . . . or M had a very specialized gift of her own. 

His mind buzzed with all the permutations of this particular gift, but before he could question James further, he was interrupted by the emergency alert signal from his transceiver. Frowning, he placed the receiver in his ear, and said, “What is it?”

“Company. Unexpected company,” Eve said tersely. “Q branch has confirmed at least one positive photo ID as a senior agent of the Chinese intelligence service.” A slight pause. “They’ve zeroed in on Bond’s handler.”

Tiago swore. “All right, we'll have to accelerate the timetable. Initiate now.”

“Rodriguez, there are quite a few more people in the casino than we’d originally planned,” Eve cautioned.

“No help for it.” He paused. “Just do your best to keep the innocents from being trampled in the resultant stampede.”

Eve sighed. “Of course. Why do I always get the easy jobs?” 

She signed off, and Tiago almost immediately heard a muffled explosion followed by the sound of screaming. He didn’t need to hear the subsequent fire alarms to know that Eve had dutifully triggered _all_ the diversions as he had ordered.

Tiago threw a shirt at James and manhandled him into it. “You don’t have a choice now, James. It can’t be a coincidence that the Ministry has shown up here. If we delay, it increases the likelihood that some innocent bystander, or possibly even one of your friends, might get killed.”

James’ eyes flashed angrily, but he obviously couldn’t argue with Tiago’s logic. He followed Tiago out the door without further protest. 

The flash and smoke bombs had resulted in enough chaos from panicked guests and employees alike that he and James escaped the casino with surprisingly little effort, even given James’ injuries. They encountered only two of the casino’s security personnel, and Tiago was able to disable them, with James’ assistance, without the necessity of firing a shot. They both knew that gunfire would only bring more heavily armed men down upon their heads.

When they finally emerged into the humid heat of the Macau summer evening, Eve was calmly assisting the casino workers by herding guests into waiting boats. She had evidently kept their own escape avenue open, because she said simply, “Follow me,” and led them quickly down a darkened, apparently unused pier. There was a small speedboat waiting, tucked halfway under the pier, and they were able to get the boat motor engaged and were pulling away before the shouting and scattered gunshots began behind them. 

Once they were out of range and reasonably safe, Tiago reached over to James’ shirt collar and attached the jamming device to it.

He hoped the bloody thing worked as planned, or else this was going to be a very short excursion indeed.

For all of them.

************************************

After their frantic flight from Macau and more than one heart-stopping close encounter with agents of the pursuing Chinese intelligence service, James’ actual surgery to remove the transponder was almost anticlimactic. 

As James had predicted, he came through the surgery perfectly fine, and his team of surgeons expected no complications. By the third day, Tiago could tell that James was quite prepared to leave the hospital, although very much against medical advice. Tiago wasn’t surprised. He’d have been just as eager to leave the sterile emptiness of this place himself. He hated hospitals with a passion.

Tiago had spent most of James’ waking hours with him, partly because he was still trying to get James to believe the declaration he’d made in Macau, and partly because he was afraid James would simply disappear if given half a chance. 

Well, mostly the latter, if he had to be honest. James had been cast adrift from the only life he’d ever known, or at least could remember, yet he still seemed hesitant to grant Tiago his trust.

Tiago rang M and asked her to make an appearance at the hospital before James was discharged. She certainly wasn't in the habit of visiting wounded agents, but when he told her that James had information she needed to know, she’d agreed, albeit reluctantly.

When M entered the room, Tiago eyed both her stern visage and empty hands with displeasure.

Clucking his tongue, he said. “What? No flowers? I am shocked, Mum, shocked.”

“I sent you flowers the last time you were injured, Rodriguez. You didn’t appreciate them.”

“I didn’t appreciate the _subtext_. They were lilies. _White_ lilies.”

“They were cheap. Members of your branch occupy hospital beds on an almost monthly basis. MI6 would be bankrupt from the flowers alone, if I allowed it.” Silencing his aggravated retort with a glare, M shifted her attention to James. 

Her expression didn’t soften in the least, but Tiago could See the faintest glimmers of remorse in her core. It would have to suffice, he supposed.

“Good morning, Agent Bond. I have been told you don’t remember me.”

James looked up at her blankly at first, but then he twitched and looked at Tiago in apparent consternation. “Tiago, this is _not_ the woman who hired Patrice.”

Tiago smiled, watching M stiffen in indignation. “Oh, yes, I knew that.”

James appeared confused, as he looked back and forth between the two of them. 

M started to say something, but Tiago flashed her a quelling glance. “By chance, James, were you able to overhear any part of Patrice’s conversation with his client?”

James shook himself minutely. He thought it over for a few moments and said, “She was ranting about human intelligence and how archaic it was. Then she said she’d prove to everyone just how _dangerous_ it could be as well.”

M’s eyes widened.

Tiago leaned against James’ hospital bed and said casually, “Sound like anyone you know, Mum?”

M glared at him, then said tersely, “Do you have any proof besides the hearsay of a tortured, amnesiac former agent who’s spent the last six years as a prostitute?”

Tiago straightened ominously, and he was quite sure M could see the fire in his eyes.

Pointedly ignoring her enraged agent, she turned instead to James, and said, “My apologies, Agent Bond. I merely intended to illustrate to Agent Rodriguez here how the defence is likely to respond to your testimony. Clair Dowar has been a parliament minister for more than two decades, and besides possessing a flawless reputation, she has friends in many high places.”

Tiago was still incensed. “Very smooth apology, M. While you’re at it, you could also apologize for throwing him to the wolves in Hong Kong in the first place.”

“Regret is unprofessional, 001. I would think given our mutual misdeeds with respect to Agent Bond, you’d be well aware of this fact.”

“Low blow, Mum, low blow.”

M lifted her chin angrily. “Those of us who lead the espionage field dare not follow the Queensberry rules, Mr. Rodriguez. ‘Low blows’ are part of the job description, and must remain so if England is to survive in the current climate. Or do you believe, as does Minister Dowar, that there _are_ no more shadows?”

“No,” Tiago said sharply, “but I don’t believe the shadows are necessarily limited to the opposition either.” Tiago tossed her Patrice’s phone. “Here. This has dates and times of Patrice’s calls received from London, which I’m certain can be matched with those of our favourite minister. You should also find a rather significant withdrawal from her account to one of Patrice’s numbered accounts. She was being horrendously sloppy . . . and stupid.”

At least Tiago had the benefit of Seeing her genuine surprise and satisfaction. She certainly wasn’t going to announce her appreciation of their accomplishments aloud. 

“Very well, that should suffice.” She stared hard at Tiago. “I have no need of you for the moment, 001. I believe you have accumulated an obnoxious amount of vacation time. Take all of it. I don’t want either of you anywhere near London while this investigation is underway.”

Tiago bowed to her mockingly and said, “If you insist.”

Choosing again to ignore him, M turned to James and said, “When you have completely recovered, we will speak again, Agent Bond.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and left the room.

Tiago sat down next to James on the bed. “I realize you have amnesia, James, but I assumed that you would at least remember _her_ , as aggravating as the old warhorse can be. I swear, sometimes I don’t know whether I want to hug her or punch her.”

When he looked over at James, he was wearing that blank, impassive expression that Tiago had come to despise. “Are you all right, _mi tesoro_?”

“Just a little thirsty. Could you hand me that glass of water?”

“Of course.” He twisted slightly, reaching toward the tray behind him when James abruptly shoved him bodily off the bed.

Tiago rolled to a sitting position on the floor and then froze. He decided against any further movement until he could determine exactly what James planned to do with the gun he’d just pulled from Tiago's holster.

Especially since, for the moment at least, it was pointed directly at Tiago’s head.

 _Dios_ , but he’d been unforgivably blind. He’d grown too accustomed to relying on his gift to keep him out of situations like this. Dangerous situations. _Deadly_ situations. 

“I see the time of reckoning has finally arrived,” Tiago said with resignation. “So that’s why you recognized me that first day -– you Saw my death when you Looked at me. My death by your own hand.”

“No,” James said quickly. “I couldn’t See your death then, and I still can’t See it, even now. You’re like a blank slate. A fucking black hole. It’s as if you don’t exist at all.”

_Now, doesn’t that sound eerily familiar?_

Tiago said, “There’s another explanation, you know. If you can’t See my death, perhaps that means I’ll live forever.” He shrugged. “Well, if we ignore the minor issue that you’re preparing to blow my brains out, that is.”

James stared at him, exasperation written plainly on his face. “If anyone could live forever, it would be you. When you grab hold of something, you refuse to let go, so you’d probably cling to life the same way.” He looked at Tiago almost pleadingly. “ _Why_ couldn’t you just let me go?” 

“Because I’d found something I didn’t know I was even missing. I decided I couldn’t live without it.”

“No,” James said sharply. “I refuse to believe you care for me that much. It’s _impossible_ to believe that.”

“Why, James? If it isn’t Fate or your gift that has preordained it, then why kill me? Is it because my reckless hacking got you captured and tortured?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’d already been caught red-handed, so they weren’t likely to release me with a slap on the wrist and a stern warning, in any case.”

“Then we’re back to the million dollar question. Why can’t you believe me when I say I love you?”

James just shook his head. “You already know the answer to that.” 

Tiago could only stare at him blankly, uncomprehending. 

“I told you only a few days ago, remember? -- ‘ _You’ll be the death of me someday_.’”

Tiago’s eyes widened when he finally comprehended what James was implying. “No. That’s fucking insane. I can’t _possibly_ be the cause of your death.” He looked at James entreatingly but saw only absolute conviction on his lover’s face. “ _Dios_ , James! Why? Was it on purpose, or maybe accidental? Did I . . .”

James shook his head violently. “For God’s sake, Tiago, it’s a _curse_. It doesn’t come with fucking subtitles!” His voice practically radiated frustration. “I can only See the end result, not the motivation or the reasoning behind it.” 

Tiago bowed his head until it rested on his bent knees. He simply could not comprehend how he’d ever consider harming this man, much less carry out such a heinous act. The mere thought filled him with intense self-loathing, and he wasn’t sure he even _wanted_ to talk James out of killing him.

But Fate was indeed a bitch, so perhaps James was correct in calling it a curse. He felt a chill race through his body as he realized something potentially even more disturbing, at least for James. 

He looked up, eyes wide. “James, if you See your own death when you Look at me now, what happens after you kill me?”

“No idea.” Even James appeared uncomfortable with that particular question. “I assume I’ll become aware of my _new_ cause of death after you’re . . . gone.”

“Do you get any concept of time frame with your . . . curse? Do you know exactly _when_ I will kill you?”

“It is . . . not soon. That’s all I know.”

Tiago followed this hypothesis to its inevitable conclusion. “That means if you kill me now, you won’t know until afterwards whether you’ll die much later, or much sooner. Your ‘current’ death as you See it -- it is a quick death, no?” Tiago wasn’t in the habit of drawing out _anyone_ ’s death. He’d always preferred to make it quick and clean. 

James’ eyes unfocussed briefly, then he merely nodded.

“Your ‘new’ death might be just as quick, or it could be a long, lingering, agonizing one.” He paused, his mind running incessantly through the myriad scenarios. “Without my protection, it’s even possible you could be recaptured by your house and die at the hands of an over-eager client. You won’t know _any_ of that until you actually kill me. ”

“No,” James said, sounding almost resigned.

Tiago shook his head. “Quite the conundrum, _mi tesoro_. However, since ‘the die is already cast’ -- pun very much intended -- the decision must obviously be yours.” Tiago smiled wanly up at him. “I wouldn’t blame you for killing me, you know. I was at least partially responsible for your misfortunes to begin with. I can only apologize for my past misdeeds . . . and for the absolutely unforgivable one in the future.” He inclined his head. “ _Lo siento de verdad , mi amor_.” 1

James stared at him for what felt like hours, then slowly lowered the gun, his arm and then finally his whole body beginning to shake. He tossed the gun away, sat down heavily on the bed, and crossed his arms across his chest as if he were suddenly in unbearable pain.

Tiago rose and started toward him almost unconsciously, his protective instincts thoroughly engaged, but he stopped abruptly when he realized he no longer had that right. How could he, when he was destined to kill this man?

“James?” he asked softly instead, torn.

James didn’t look up at him. “I can’t even pretend to care anymore,” he said. “I spent the last six years of my so-called life hiding in Death’s shadow. At least now you’ve given me back some measure of self respect.” He looked up at Tiago almost beseechingly. “I _want_ to trust you, very badly. Besides, everybody dies eventually. Does it really matter when . . . or by whom?”

Tiago closed his eyes briefly, said a silent prayer to Whomever might be listening, then walked slowly toward James. He sat down next to him and gently reached a hand toward his face as he’d done when they’d first met, what felt like a lifetime ago. “Perhaps we should both choose to live for the moment then, hmm? Someone once said, ‘There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval.’”

“And you believe you can help me ‘enjoy the interval’?”

“I’m sure I can come up with something.” He smiled gently. “There is always _la petite mort_ , is there not?” Tiago raised a teasing, ironic eyebrow. “Who knows? Perhaps ‘the little death’ is what your gift is Seeing and not your true death at all.”

“It always comes back to sex for you, doesn’t it?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

James sighed deeply, then pressed his cheek trustingly against Tiago’s palm. “No, I don’t. It hurts too much to think right now. Besides, you’re supposed to be the smart one.”

“I knew you’d see it my way. You said it yourself, _mi tesoro_ –- Fate is a meddlesome bitch, and I have no intention of making it easy for her.”

“As if She would dare to argue with _you_ ,” James said with some degree of exasperation.

“Perish the thought.” He kissed James lightly on the forehead. “We’ll make this work. You’ll see. Fate may be set in Her ways, but Death likes it when you play hard to get.”2

Tiago absolutely refused to believe their fates were set permanently in stone. He’d find a way around this seemingly impossible quandary. Somehow.

_Or die trying._

END

**Author's Note:**

> 1"I'm really sorry, my love."
> 
> 2 "Death likes it when you play hard to get" is actually a quote from American author R. K. Milholland, but it sounded too much like something Tiago would say to pass up.
> 
> At some point, I will be doing minor edits to this story, but I wanted to get at least something posted before the deadline. There have been some serious health issues in my immediate family (which are thankfully improving) that have delayed the last minute editing I had _hoped_ to do.


End file.
